


Ignorance is not always bliss

by LittleSpider



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Cute, Domestic, F/M, Pregnancy, Surprise pregnancy, Whump, d'awww
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2018-01-21 08:18:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 25,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1544003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleSpider/pseuds/LittleSpider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha wakes Clint in the night with terrible period pain...</p><p>But what if it's something else...</p><p>What if ignorance isn't bliss...?</p><p>A gift for my dear, dear 'Fromthemiddleoftheocean' from her prompt</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fromthemiddleoftheocean](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=fromthemiddleoftheocean).



“Clint…CLINT.”

Clint felt the heel of her palm jam into his lower back and his eyes opened sluggishly. Reaching automatically for his pistol on the bedside table as the light flicked on besides him.

He turned to look at her, sleepy eyes blurring over.

“..’Tasha…what is it?”

She was holding her stomach and her cheeks were flushed.

“…Can you get me some water please?” she asked.

“…Sure…are you alright?” he asked, sitting up.

She nodded.

“Period pains.”

Clint gave a sympathetic half smile and reached up to kiss her forehead gently.

“Of course…” he nodded and got up to head to the bathroom to get her a glass of water.

Natasha had infrequent, painful periods that would sometimes knock her off duty entirely as she lay on their double bed.

The soviet experimentation that riddled her body had left her gynaecologically unstable. Infertile and with sometimes heavy bleeding during her menstrual cycle. So when Natasha had one of her infrequent periods, Clint took lessons from Pepper on how to take care of her.

He reached into the bathroom cabinet for some painkillers and brought them back to the bed, putting them on her bedside table and sitting on her side of the bed, bringing her foot to rest on his thigh and rubbing it soothingly.

“…How long have you been suffering?”

She gave a soft smile.

“…a few hours…they’ll fade in a bit…hopefully. I don’t think Fury will buy my ‘Time of the month’ excuse for missing training…”

Clint smiled and stroked her leg.

“Take some painkillers and get some sleep. You’ll be alright.”

She smiled and reached for the glass when she winced and leaned forwards, holding her stomach.

“…Tasha?”

She breathed out shakily and bore down on her gut.

“…Tasha. Do you want me to wake Bruce?”

She shook her head forcefully and rested her head back.

“I’m not waking Bruce up to tell him I’m having period cramps. He’ll get bashful and shy and ask me if I’ve considered green tea…”

Clint put his hand on her stomach gingerly.

“…You don’t normally get them like this. You normally curl up in a ball in the bed for three days and growl if anyone changes the channel…”

Natasha gave him a faint smile again.

“Its nothing. Go back to sleep…”

Clint wanted to argue but Natasha was already taking her painkillers and swallowing them.

He pressed a kiss to her cheek and lay down besides her again.

“They get too bad, wake me…okay?”

She nodded and turned off her lamp.

With the room in darkness. It took less than four minutes for Clint to fall asleep.

*

It was a soft grunt that seemed to come from outside of his consciousness that woke him. Half woke up.

It must have been him…

In his dream, he and Captain Kirk had accidentally lost Spock in a brothel and they needed to find him. Kirk had naturally started a brawl with the bouncers and…

There it was again…

That wasn’t him…

It was Natasha…

Sitting up rapidly he felt blindly for the lamp cord, sending his wallet and car keys to the floor.

The light came on and Natasha was beside him, her forehead glowing with perspiration, her cheeks flushed and her hand on her gut.

“Natasha!”

He scrambled the acre of inches between them and felt her forehead.

She was extremely warm.

“…Its…a bad period…” she groaned.

“Nat, please, let me call Bruce.”

She shook her head.

“Its just period pain…”

“You’re sweating…Please, please, let me ask him to see you.”

She took a deep breath and let out a groan, bearing down on her stomach again.

“I’m calling an ambulance.” he decided. “If you won’t see Bruce—”

“No ambulances!” she practically growled.

Clint stood up, looking at his lover, her red hair soaked with sweat, her hand on her stomach.

“…Jarvis, you up?”

“I am always ‘up’, Sir.”

“Tell Happy we need him in the basement in 10.”

*

Happy looked in the rear view mirror at his unusual passengers. The Archer and Assassin duo that Tony had invited to live at the tower a few months ago when SHIELD fell. Romanoff, or as he knew her, Rushman—-she had a mean streak when it came to boxing, but right now she looked like she was going to explode.

“…If she throws up in the back of the car, Stark is gonna have my balls stuffed and mounted…” Happy grumbled.

“Keep your eyes on the road.” Natasha wearily whimpered, her one hand on the corner of his seat, and on the corner of his passenger seat as she bore down on her stomach.

The Archer sat beside her, a purple hoody covering his night vest and a pair of loose sweat pants concealing the fact he’d been sleeping.

Happy couldn’t decide if they;d been sleeping in the same bed, or she’d been asleep in a different bed and had called him for help.

Reverting his gaze to the road, he sped along the free-way.

“What do you reckon it is?” he asked. “Food poisoning? Appendicitis?”

“Lady problems.” Clint responded.

Happy looked like he was about to crack a joke but when he heard Natasha cry out in pain he decided not to, remembering she’d put him on the ground in a business suit before now.

“I’ll park up, you can go on in, I’ll meet’cha in there.”

“You don’t have to come in…” Clint continued, stroking Natasha’s slick hair back.

“Boss’ orders.” Happy responded. “Tony wants to make sure you’re alright.”

Natasha gave a feeble smile.

“Pepper.” she responded.

Clint smirked as he imagined Pepper nagging Tony to make sure she knew Natasha would be alright.

Happy looked up and saw his turning.

“Hold tight, gonna make a tight turn.”

He made the turn and Natasha taught him four new Russian words.

Pulling up at the entrance he sighed.

“Paps…Want me to pull up at the back?”

“How did we get paparazzi attention?!” Clint asked incredulously as Natasha leaned forwards to rest her forehead on her arm.

“Tony Stark’s business car, doing almost twice the speed limit towards the hospital…” Happy began and got out of the car to shoo away the snapping photographers.

“Scram!…Move! Move!”

The paparazzi did little to clear a path, then again, Tony Stark’s chauffeur/bodyguard did little to impress people when he wore Iron Man pyjama bottoms, a vest top and his black jacket.

“Move!”

Clint opened the door and was immediately blinded by camera bulbs.

“Jesus…”

There wasn’t any time to waste. Natasha was making low, groaning noises he usually attributed to grievous injuries and bullet wounds.

Getting out, he helped Natasha out of the car, pulling her loose Yoga pants up as she got out to preserve her modesty.

“ROMANOFF!”

“BARTON!”

“HEY HAWKEYE!”

“NATASHA!”

Clint tried to follow Happy as he pushed them aside, trying to get them through the 14 yards as easily as possible.

“IS IT TRUE YOU’RE DATING?!”

“IS IT TRUE YOU’RE MARRIED?!”

“IS IT TRUE YOU’RE GETTING DIVORCED?!”

“DID YOU CHEAT ON HIM WITH CAPTAIN AMERICA?!”

Clint felt Natasha’s fingers on his shoulder curl and her nails graze the skin.

He decided to disarm this as quickly as possible.

“…Jeez guys, you’ve found me a wife, married me, divorced me and buried America’s sweetheart in 7 seconds…thanks!”

Happy pushed open the doors and moved them inside as hospital security handled the paparazzi.

Just in time too as Natasha collapsed against Clint.

A thick, warm fluid soaked her bottom half as she held her mouth and buried her head in his shoulder.

She’d wet herself…

Clint wrapped his arms around him.

“Shh…Shh…it’s alright…” he began.

The pain had made her lose control of her bladder. It must be bad.

Happy walked forwards again and went to speak to them.

“Security said I can move the car as soon as the paparaz—have you pis—-”

Clint shook his head sternly, his eyes wide and promising untold pain if he finished the sentence.

“I’ll go find a doctor.” Happy suggested.

The receptionist ran over and looked at Clint quizzically.

“She’s in agony. She said it was period pain but it’s never been this bad.” Clint told her, supporting all her weight in his arms.

“What’s her name?”

“Natasha Romanoff.” he told her as Happy came back with a doctor and a wheelchair.

Clint practically poured Natasha into it and held her hand soothingly.

“What’s the problem?” the doctor asked, his dark eyebrows lifting as he recognized the pair from the attack on New York a year or so back.

“She’s been having really bad cr—”

Natasha interruptted him with a loud cry that echoed off the walls of the waiting area, making patients pause, the guy stocking the vending machine drop his Butterfinger bar and the receptionist hiss in sympathy.

“…I see. Bring her through to resus.”

Clint caught a glance at the clock.

It was almost 5 in the morning.

Pushing her through to resus, Clint tried to follow the running commentary that the Doctor was giving as the nurses undressed Natasha’s bottom half and tested her blood pressure.

“Appears to have voided bladder, temperature is high, breathing laboured…Severe discomfort in the lower abdomen and back…”

Natasha was holding onto Clint’s hand like it was her last mag in a gunfight and was trying to catch his gaze.

He held her hand tight, his lips brushing the sweaty, sticky back of her hand tight.

“I’m just going to run a scan on your abdomen, see if we can find the problem, Natasha, sit tight.” The nurse said soothingly as she put some jelly on the small scanner.

There was momentary, and almost frighteningly quick silence in the room as the ultrasound made contact with her stomach.

Natasha held her breath and looked up at Clint.

Her eyes were dark with what must have been the overpowering concern of—

“—thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-”

Natasha looked down to the nurse who looked to the Doctor.

The Doctor looked at the screen, back to Natasha’s stomach and then at her soaking wet yoga pants that were in the red plastic bag.

“…Natasha, I think you’re in labor.”

Natasha looked up at Clint and gave him a pleading look designed to ask him to tell them why she couldn’t be.

“….She’s infertile.” he said simply, giving her hand a squeeze.

Natasha groaned and bore down again, panting.

“If we wait long enough, she’ll prove you wrong…”

Natasha panted.

“…wait…wait…” Clint began. “…are you, telling us…that we’re…she’s…having a baby?”

The Doctor nodded.

“And if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to get final confirmation before I send you to maternity…may I just check down there, please, Natasha?”

Natasha nodded and rested her head back.

Clint’s mind was going a mile a minute.

When…?

Well, not when. Hell, he and Natasha had long, intense sex sessions without protection—after all, why did you need protection when one of you was infertile…

No morning sickness. None at all. Natasha hadn’t been sick at all for the past year…she never got sick…

No weight gain…Natasha was remarkably thin, she did a lot of exercise. Had a good regime…

She didn’t even get heartburn or indigestion or swollen ankles…or—Oh God…they were gonna have a baby…

Clint watched as an unfamiliar man disappeared between Natasha’s legs, common sense held back his rightful anger as he remembered this man was a Doctor.

“…9 centimeters dilated…You’re in labour.”

Natasha gave out a soft sobbing groan of despair as the Doctor pulled back and disposed of his gloves.

Clint stroked her cheek gently and turned her chin to him.

“Shh…Sh…it’s okay. It’s okay, I’m here…” he whispered. “It’s fine, you’re okay.”

“…I can’t….I can’t do this, Clint.”

“No…No, you can, you’re halfway there baby…”

“I can’t have a baby…I can’t be a mom…I’m not a good mom…”

“You’ve never tried…” Clint soothed her, stroking her hair. “…Shh…”

“All the missions…Oh God…SHIELD…when SHIELD fell…I was pregnant…I…”

“And the baby survived…Natasha, you’re build like a bomb shelter and as beautiful as…as…Vegas….You’re gonna be alright. I’m here…”

Natasha’s worried forehead with its slight wrinkles dissolved into a hesitant smile as the Doctor covered her with a blanket.

“You’re going to Maternity now, you’ll be prepped en route by a midwife, we have the special care baby unit on standby, good luck Natasha.”

Natasha nodded and held onto Clint’s hand tight.

*

Between Resus and Delivery, Clint was changed into a pair of light blue scrubs and given a pair of gloves to wear as a friendly, plump midwife gave Natasha a crash course in breathing techniques, and how to push properly.

Natasha, between contractions nodded, her hand tight on his, only swapping when he had to put his rubber glove on.

Natasha went into full labour just before Six am and pushed like she had a damn degree in it.

She took deep, hard breaths and turned them into some kind of energy to push the baby she hadn’t known about an hour previous into the world.

The midwives and delivery team were on hand, various wands, and straps and suckers were attached to Natasha and her bump as a steady: ‘—thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-’ cheered her on.

Between the heavy contractions, Clint wiped her forehead and kissed her hand, nodding and doing everything he had seen on TV and in movies to encourage her. “Come on baby, you’re almost there. Seriously, you are gonna hold the patent on badass when we get home…Stark and Steve have nothing on you right now…”

“One big push Natasha!” a midwife added, staring between Natasha’s legs as another moved into position to catch the baby in a blanket.

Natasha bore down hard and cried out loudly in a yell that Clint hoped every other father in their could hear, a cry that put other women to shame, a cry that only died off when it was joined by a less intense, less loud…never the less as defiant cry of a newborn baby.

She’d done it.

She’d given birth.

Clint kissed her head, over and over and over, pressing his lips all along that sweaty forehead, her hand going slack in his as she panted.

“…You did it…listen to that…you did it…”

Her eyes opened as she looked over her raised knees, the green blanket to see the baby she had barely had time to become acquainted with.

“…it’s a girl.” The midwife smiled.

Natasha’s lips bloomed into a smile as she reached what were previously exhausted arms over the sheet to hold her baby.

Clint wrapped his arm around his woman and watched a very pink, kinda small bundle of screaming nestled into her arms.

Natasha pressed a kiss to her sticky head and stroked her cheek soothingly to quieten her. Every inch the mother she swore she wasn’t.

Clint pressed another kiss into her hair.

“…She looks like you…” he smiled, noting the thin threads of red hair along her head.

Natasha looked up at him.

“…that’s a good thing…” she murmured. “…poor little thing couldn’t go through life with a face like yours…”

Clint laughed lightly and kissed her cheek again.

“We’re just going to need to take her for some tests. She’s a little under sized so we need to check her over…” the midwife began. “I dare say you two need some time to adjust to being mom and dad!”

Natasha nodded as she gently handed the baby back to the midwife.

Clint wrapped Natasha in a gentle embrace.

“Thank you…”

*

Clint was allowed to go and sit with Natasha in her private room as soon as she had been checked over and cleaned up.

She was resting up and looked much, much better.

Clint did not give her chance to speak but instead pressed an impulsive kiss to her lips which she smiled into and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Sitting on the bed, he broke the kiss to talk to her.

“How are you feeling?”

“…Better.”

The silence between them was comfortable as Clint gave a small laugh and scratched the back of his head.

“…so…a baby…right?”

Natasha smiled right back.

“…yeah.”

Clint’s features became more serious.

“…how, how do you feel about this, Nat…?”

Her features dimmed too.

“…I feel…scared. Wondering what I can do. Where I can go with this. If I can still be who I am with this…how this happened…if the baby will be alright…I…I want this. I really do…but I’m scared.”

Clint held her hand in his.

“Baby, you don’t need to do this alone…She’s half mine too. I…I’m with you. Completely, and totally. I’m here.”

“…A baby is a lot of responsibility Clint. Its a life. A life that relies on you. Neither of us signed up for this, but…you can walk away.”

Clint’s jaw set, his reached over and stroked her cheek.

“…I would never, ever walk away from you. You are the greatest thing that has ever happened in my life. Why would I give up on you when you’ve just made me a father…?”

Natasha smiled.

“You’re gonna need to help me, Clint. I don’t know anything.”

“Neither do I. But, there are books, websites…youtube videos…”

She leaned forwards and pressed a kiss to his lips again.

The door creaked open.

“Sorry to interrupt…I just thought you may want to spend some time with this little one…” the nurse smiled.

Clint looked and saw her carrying the baby in her arms.

“Is she alright?” Natasha asked.

“She’s a little smaller than usual, but she’s fine. Good healthy set of lungs on her, and everywhere where we’d like it.”

She went to offer her to Natasha.

Natasha shook her head.

“To her father, please.”

Clint looked to the nurse and tried to angle his arms into something he would use to carry a baby in.

The nurse slid the baby into his arms and stood back cautiously.

“You have her?”

Clint nodded.

The gentle, warm weight of his daughter stealing his words from him.

The nurse nodded and left as Natasha leaned forwards to stroke her daughter’s slight, red hair.

“…well?”

Clint looked up, tears glistening in his eyes as a gentle hand squeezed his vocal chords.

“…you think we can keep her?” Natasha teased.

Clint nodded and sniffed, pressing a warm, shaky kiss to her head.

“Oh…I think so…” he whispered quietly. “…I definitely think so.”


	2. Telling Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint has successfully dealt with the idea of becoming a sudden father. But how will he support this new family? And how will he managed to convince Tony that having a baby around is a good thing?

Natasha was laying asleep in the bed as Clint sat sentry next to the small plastic cot that housed his new born, unexpected daughter.

He would look up from the book on baby care that the midwife had handed him a few shell-shocked hours earlier and look into the crib to check that there was actually, a real baby in there.

There she was alright.

The baby that had turned his life upside down inside of 60 minutes.

Peering over the rim of the crib, he watched her chest carefully and saw it heave, and fall…heave and fall…heave and fall…heave

Clint felt his cheeks pull his lips into a smile and resisted the urge to stroke her red cheek with his finger.

Clint sat back and looked to Natasha’s sleeping form on the bed.

How she had done it, he would never know.

To go for eight and a half months (they assumed the baby was a two to three weeks premature), without knowing she was pregnant, and then to be in labour for six or seven hours without realizing…

Forget seeing the Virgin Mary in coffee or Jesus Christ on toast…this was a miracle.

Looking back at the book he had managed to digest roughly ten pages of, he tried to figure out what he was going to do.

They lived with Tony and Pepper in the tower as was the arrangement all of the Avengers had when SHIELD fell. Tony insisted it was the safest place to be and a place he could ensure they got training, and board without being at risk.

'As well as some damn good parties'—he had added in afterwards.

But he was sure that having kids wasn’t exactly in their clause of tenancy agreement.

Their level at the tower was a spacious apartment with two rooms. One had been left dormant for a while now when Clint came into her room one night and never quite moved out into his own room. The pair were living together as a ‘couple’ now not just as lovers who lived in the same space.

Sure, the idea would be that his old room would be the nursery, and as long as Tony was alright about it, they could raise the baby there. But the actual raising of the baby? As in, taking time off while Natasha recovered and being there for it. That was a more complicated issue.

Clint knew that he would do things that he even refused SHIELD for the baby that had just fell into their lives, but wasn’t sure how.

He wanted to give her the world, but he knew that he needed to set it straight before he gave it to her and Natasha was just too damn good at what she did to settle into the life of a housewife at the still fine and agile age of 31.

Clint closed the chapter on ‘Bathing and care’ and put the book down on the bed before rubbing his eyes.

Ten minutes after the baby had been born, Clint had kissed Natasha and headed to reception in the maze of a hospital where Happy was sat reading a pamphlet on blood donation.

He had delivered the heavy news which he himself was still in free-fall from that he was now a father, Natasha had given birth and to tell Tony.

Happy blinked a few times, went to ask something, decided not to and left a little bit punch-drunk.

The idea of Natasha, the Russian Spy who once put him on his back in a thigh choke, now nursing a new born baby was a bit hard to swallow.

He had then switched off his cell and headed straight back to Natasha.

No distractions.

No streams of snapchats showing the various levels of shock of Tony Stark.

No half garbled texts in capital letters from Steve asking for information.

No urgent demands for visits from Bruce.

Just him, and his very sudden family.

Now he was sat in dim quiet of the private room trying to get a hold of everything as it floated around.

It was like he was in space. Gravity off. Trying to catch a hold of his tools.

Nothing was where it was a few hours ago, and as much as he was enjoying it…he needed to make a plan.

Standing, he slid his hands into his pockets and looked to Natasha.

God she looked beautiful.

Was it the fact she was sleeping after being in pain for God knows how long? Was it the fact she had just given birth to his baby? Or was it the fact he was tired out and wanted to share that bed with her?

Difficult to say.

What was the right thing to do by her now? His brother had always told him to be careful…

'If you get a girl pregnant, you gotta marry her. So wear rubbers and always give a fake number…' he had told him.

Clint scratched his eyebrow and covered a smile.

Natasha didn’t seem the marrying type. It might ruin her rep if she had a wedding band on, and hopefully, would invalidate her codename.

Then again, Natasha didn’t seem the maternal type either, yet here she was, a baby at her side. One she intended to keep.

Did she plan on giving up work? Or would he need to?

Ultimately it was her choice. She had decided to keep the baby, a baby they neither of them had planned and that was a big step for her, one he was grateful for, but out of the pair of them, he knew that Natasha had been trained from her youth to be who she was, to take her out of that would destroy all she knew.

Clint rubbed down his face, trying to massage life into the sleep numbed muscles and nerves.

And what would they call her?

This little girl they now called ‘Daughter’.

She was a half American, half Russian Barton-Romanoff. Or…Romanoff-Barton.

He wanted her to have some of his name. He knew some people at SHIELD had blended their names together to give to their child—a little pretentious he thought, but a first name would be a good start.

That could wait until her mother woke up.

And what about the others. Would they take kindly to sharing a living space with a screaming, pooping, sleep-depriving baby?

Steve would probably say very little and deal with it. He had often told Clint how the silence of the tower was unsettling, having grown up in Brooklyn where the walls between apartments were paper-thin and if someone on the ground floor had a cough, the person on the tenth knew.

Bruce would politely shy away from any questions and insist that it was fine, but he didn’t want their baby to be responsible for an incident when it disturbed Bruce in the middle of something important.

Pepper would welcome the presence of a baby in the apartment and would probably take joy in showing Tony what a good mother she would be and a great father he would be. Tony would probably treat the child like some kind of alien and try and feed it redvines when he was watching TV or working on his new suit.

Thor, who now lived between the tower and wherever Jane lived these days would hardly be bothered by a midgardian child and would laugh at how puny she was compared to how he managed to lift a dozen oxen on the afternoon of his birth…

Probably.

Clint rubbed the back of his neck.

He could probably rent somewhere cheap…somewhere out of town.

Truthfully, Clint had never banked on saving his cash. He reckoned on working for SHIELD until he retired on a SHIELD pension or dying early and not having to worry.

Now SHIELD had gone ass up, he was living on Tony’s good grace and a few hundred dollars he had managed to scrimp from his many bank accounts attached to his covers.

Natasha on the other hand had been wise. She had saved, saved and saved. Invested. Made a profit and saved some more. She had a corvette in the garage and enough money to get her through the next few lives. But Clint was beyond that.

He had once caught his dad sneaking into his mom’s purse for money for a bottle of whiskey and when he had protested he had got a thick ear.

He wasn’t gonna be that man.

No. He would take whatever jobs he could get with the Avengers, after all, Maria had been working on rerouteing some of SHIELD’s looser funds through a few bank accounts to provide them with a salary while they worked on hunting down HYDRA. The SHIELD bases that had not fallen had happily helped her with that.

But, He’d save what he didn’t spend on food and utilities and then try and get a mortgage…

Hopefully the bank wouldn’t look down too harshly on him for working for a terrorist organisation with links to known Nazi-sympathizers.

Clint let out a mirthless laugh and shook his head.

Just then, the door opened.

Turning to face the person who had opened the door, it was a nurse. Student nurse by the looks of it.

“…Sorry to disturb you Mr. Romanoff…”

“…Barton.”

“Pardon?”

“…It’s Barton, we’re not married.”

“…Oh.Sorry, Mr. Barton, but…Mr. Tony Stark is here and is insisting he speaks to you…urgently.”

Clint’s mouth dropped open as he tried to think how Tony had managed to get in after visiting hours had ended.

“I guess I can see him.” Clint replied softly. “Um. I’ll see him outside in the corridor though…If he wakes the baby, Nat will castrate him.”

The nurse nodded and headed out.

Clint ran his hands through his hair and looked towards Natasha and the baby.

They were both sound asleep.

He took a deep breath and headed out to greet Tony.

The soft clicking of Cuban heels on sterile hospital floors told him that he was on his way.

Walking down the dimly lit hallway, tinted glasses, expensive suit, stern pout.

He meant business.

“…Tony, listen—” Clint began softly.

“No. You, shush.” Tony began, prodding Clint’s chest with fingers.

Clint swallowed, ready for a backlash.

“…you two, come into MY home. Set up a cosy little nest—pun intended. And decide to start a family?”

“Nothing was decided, T-”

“Shh.”

Clint set his jaw.

“Pepper…” he began, folded his arms “…has been picking out swatches for nursery prints, ready for your approval. Pepper, is gushing over the idea of a baby around the place. Pepper, wants to come and visit this afternoon.”

Clint swallowed nervously and nodded.

“Do you know what you’ve awakened in her?” Tony asked. “…I am not ready to be a father, Katniss!”

A relieved, slightly amused smile.

“I can’t say I got much notice either, Tony.” he replied softly.

Tony’s angry stance dropped and his folded arms fell by his side.

“…How’s Red?”

Clint nodded.

“She’s tired, but she’s in good health.” Clint began softly. “It all happened so fast, I can’t quite get my head around it.”

“When Happy came in and told me, I didn’t believe him.” Tony began, trying to sneak a glance through the window behind Clint. “Thought he’d been at my bar again.”

“Eight and a half months and no clues.” Clint responded. “Woke me up with a crippling stomach ache, got her in here, waters broke, an hour later we’ve got a baby girl in our arms.”

Tony’s eyebrows made it over his glasses.

“…So it’s a girl.”

Clint nodded.

“…She’s…something else.”

Tony nodded and stuck out his hand.

“Congratulations, I trust you’re gonna call her Merida.”

Clint rolled his eyes theatrically before taking Tony’s hand and shaking it.

“I think Natasha might kill me.”

Tony laughed briefly and stuck his hands in his pockets.

“…You’re staying though, at the tower.”

“It’s compl—”

“You’re staying.” Tony said more firmly. “You’re on my team, you’re my friends. You stay.”

Clint felt his cheek twitch into a smile.

“…Besides, Pepper will flay me alive if you two leave with a baby she can coddle.”

“That said, d’y’wanna see her?” Clint asked softly. “She’s sleeping but I think we can take a look.”

Tony nodded.

“Sure. Hopefully she’s got Natasha’s looks.”

“Jerk.” Clint smirked and pushed open the door.

He paused to ensure he had not woken Natasha and then beckoned him in.

“…Shhh” he urged as he held open the door.

Tony wandered over to the small plastic crib and peered inside.

“…wow. She’s…”

“What?” Clint asked, a tone of defensiveness in his voice.

“…Normal.”

“What were you expecting? Wings?”

Tony shook his head, his fingertips tracing the rim of the crib.

“…Just…given Romanoff’s weight throughout…SHIELD falling, the training…I thought—”

Clint nodded.

“She’s got her mothers guts…”

“She’s got your determination.” Tony responded. “…and her mother’s looks…Thank God.”

Clint gave Tony a playful shove.

The cradle jerked softly with the shove and the pair of men looked quickly to see if they had woken the baby.

The small infant squirmed uncomfortably and opened her eyes as the two men stared down at her.

She made a small noise of discomfort and wriggled, threatening a cry.

Clint reached in and with an amount of delicacy and tenderness Tony had never seen in the man before, picked up the wriggling bundle of pink blankets.

He cradled her in the crook of his arm and bounced her very lightly with a smile on his face that Tony knew, but was before now alien to this man’s face.

Pride.

“D’y’wanna hold her?”

“Uh…Is she gonna be sick on me? Suit cost $2,500.”

Clint made to put her in his arms. Tony looked uncertain.

“I don’t like to be handed th—”

Tony watched as Clint stood back.

“…Tony Stark, with a baby, now there’s a picture.”

Tony smiled and looked down at her.

“She’s tiny.”

“So’s Natasha.” Clint began taking out his phone and switching it on. “Don’t judge them by their size. Natasha had to change her nappy earlier. I haven’t smelled anything that bad since I was in that sewage pipe in Italy.”

Tony chuckled and stroked the baby’s hair.

Clint’s phone began to buzz rapidly.

“Shhh!” he urged, stuffing the phone in his pocket as nearly four hours of missed calls and unread texts came through all at once.

Tony covered the baby’s ear with his free hand as the child grizzled and Natasha stirred in the bed.

“…Clint…?” she mumbled.

Tony walked over slowly with a grin on his face.

“Morning Red, how you feeling?”

Natasha rubbed her eye and eased herself up the bed.

“…She alright?” she mumbled.

Tony smiled and walked over.

“She’s great…Really beautiful, Red. You did good…”

Clint smiled and walked over to put his arm around Natasha.

“-although, I am confused how one of the world’s greatest spies didn’t see she was eight months pregnant.”

Natasha gave a sheepish smile and let herself relax into Clint’s side.

“The Doctor thinks I have a tilted uterus.”

“Whoa…” Tony began, holding out his hand. “Pepper and her ovaries, you and your uterus. I don’t need to know.”

Natasha looked up at Clint who was smiling like he’d been told he’d won the lottery.

Tony bounced the baby gently and nodded.

“That said—She’s pretty. She’s gonna be pretty….Considered Toni as a name?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By popular request...a second chapter. :)


	3. Distraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Natasha and Clint to take their newborn daughter home...but that is easier said than done

Clint bounced his daughter in his arms gently as Natasha was packing her things into her holdall, preparing to leave the hospital.

“Anastasia.” he suggested. “Red hair…might have green eyes when she’s older.” he continued, staring into the deep blue eyes that were wandering over his face.

“Nope.” she said flatly, placing her toiletries in the side pocket of the black holdall.

“It’s Russian.”

“It’s a sore topic, Clint. Don’t you read?” she asked, wrinkling her nose in the way she usually did when she was unimpressed.

“But in the movie she survived!”

“And in history, she died along with the rest of the Romanova family. Executed. I am not naming my daughter after the ill-fated ‘lost’ Duchess!”

“…we could call her Ana for short.”

“No. Final.”

Clint sighed and looked at the baby in his arms.

“Your mother is stubborn.” she grumbled playfully, smiling at her. “What about Catherine. Wasn’t she Russian?”

“Clint. No more Russian suggestions until you can access Wikipedia.”

Clint sighed.

“She needs a name. I have Tony calling her ‘Chick’ all the time and Pepper keeps spamming me with links to baby name websites.”

Natasha zipped up the bag and set it on the floor and gently scooped the baby from her lover’s arms and cradled her, smiling down at her.

Clint smiled up at her from his perch on the arm of the visitors chair.

“She’s beautiful like you.”

Natasha looked at him.

“Let’s hope she gets her bullshitting gene. We ready?”

Clint nodded and pulled out his cell. He pranked Happy’s number and picked up her holdall.

“Come on then, mom.”

Natasha rolled her eyes and tucked the blanket around her daughter’s head a little closer.

“She doesn’t like hats.” Natasha said softly as they walked out of the private room towards the nurses station to sign out.

“I don’t like them either.” Clint responded. “Make my head sweat.”

“She starts whimpering every time I put one on her. Pepper sent over this beautiful peach coloured one with ribbon on the brim, she wouldn’t even let me put it on her.”

“She’s proud of her hair.” Clint grinned as he put the bag down and took the baby while Natasha signed out.

“Are you three leaving us then?” the nurse asked, beaming at the baby.

Natasha nodded.

“I think I clogged up the beds for long enough.”

The nurse smiled and countersigned it before filing it.

“Any problems, you can call the number on this card for advice.”

Natasha took it and pocketed it before smiling.

“Thanks for your help.”

She took the baby back from Clint who was looking at his phone in the other hand and started to walk down the corridor.

“Who’s that?” she asked, nodding at the phone.

“Happy. Change of plan…” he mumbled, picking up the bag and catching her up.

“Change of plan?”

“Yeah. Seems that over the last few days the comings and goings of Tony Stark and Pepper Potts have led to a sort of ‘sit in’ with the press. Happy reckons that getting us through the main doors will be a problem and some of the more clever Paparazzi have started to guard other entrances.”

“I don’t want her exposed to the media circus before she has a name. You saw what they were like when we came in. They’re rabid.”

Just then Clint’s phone buzzed for the third time in 15 minutes.

“Apparently ‘its sorted’. We’re heading out of the X-ray department and he’ll meet us there.”

Natasha went to open her mouth to ask how but Clint had already picked up the pace.

“Whatever Happy’s done, it’s not gonna work for long. Come on.”

Natasha matched his pace and pulled the blanket up a little more to protect her daughter’s face from any potential cameras.

Clint checked the hospital map, made a mental route and walked with her through the hospital.

Being late afternoon, the morning visitors had gone and the afternoon visitors weren’t yet arriving and the place was pretty quiet but for the occasional porter, cleaner or nurse meandering around the sterile corridors.

Putting his arm around Natasha, he hurried her towards the X-ray department’s exit where Happy was stood next to an unfamiliar car, looking around uncomfortably.

Clint pushed the door open and looked to Happy who nodded and opened the rear passenger door for Natasha. She carefully slipped inside and found a baby seat occupying the other seat.

She smiled and made a mental note to thank Pepper later.

Clint got into the passenger side as Happy closed the door on Natasha and walked around the car to the drivers side before looking in the rear view mirror.

“We all buckled in?”

Natasha clipped the clip on the seat and put the blanket over her daughter before nodding and buckling herself in.

Clint looked to Happy who was driving off and trying to get out of the hospital complex as fast as he could without drawing attention.

“This isn’t Stark’s ride.”

“He borrowed it.” Happy responded, his eyes on the rear view mirror. “Belongs to a guy called Sam. Friend of Steve’s. Press have got all of Stark’s cars on record. Most of you guys too. Hell, they even have the grocery store’s licences on record.”

Clint made an impressed face and nodded.

“So how did you get the press off our case?” Natasha asked.

“Tony is in the kid’s ward giving out Heroes of New York toys.”

Clint grinned.

“Sweet.”

Natasha smiled.

“So, how’s the sprog?”

Natasha nodded as Clint looked to Happy.

“She’s great, they’re impressed with her progress, hence why she’s coming back with us.”

Happy nodded.

“Well, Pepper’s been pulling out all the stops. Really rolling out the red carpet for…uh…uhm…what’s her name?”

“She doesn’t have one yet.” Clint replied, rubbing his eyes.

“Awh, c’mon. Can’t have her wondering around with no name.” Happy said.

“It’s not that easy.” Natasha began. “She’s got to get a name that means something to her.”

“Well. She’s a baby, no offense but they aren’t exactly known for their personality quirks.” Happy snorted.

“She doesn’t like hats.” Clint offered sheepishly.

“Fine. Call her ‘Hattie’.”

Natasha rolled her eyes and watched as the free way finally came into view.

“We’ll be home in fifteen.” Happy replied. “Traffic isn’t too bad today.”

“Good.” Clint nodded. “I can’t wait for the guys to see her.”

“Yeah, Thor came over especially. Stark got a hold of Jane, told her everything. Next thing you know, God-damn God of thunder lands on the top floor deck, sky turns as black as shit and he bounds in demanding to see the kid.”

Natasha smiled.

“Is he there now?” she smiled.

“Yeah. Steve is taking him on a tour of New York.”

Clint looked into the distance.

“Am I gonna see Thor turning the Empire State Building into a Plasma Globe?”

Happy laughed.

Natasha smiled at Clint who caught her eye in the rear view mirror.

As Happy drew level with the tower he sighed.

“God damn. I was hoping these guys would be gone.”

Clint leaned forwards.

There was a gaggle of teenage girls and a few boys in Iron Man Hoodies, masks and costumes.

“…Fangirls.” Clint said softly. “Thank God for tinted windows…am I right?” he smirked back at Natasha.

Natasha was already assembling a pink tent around her daughter with her blanket and nodded to Clint.

Happy beeped the car horn once or twice to get the gathering to part and wound down the window to buzz himself in using his fob.

The gates began to grind open as he drove slowly in.

“Hawkeye!” some of the girls squealed and started waving wildly.

Clint forced a smile and waved as Happy sighed.

“Don’t encourage them. You’re as bad as Tony.”

The gates ground shut behind them as the garage door opened automatically to let him in.

Happy parked smoothly into the free slot and got out, watching the garage doors roll shut and the teenage fans move out of sight.

Clint hopped out and moved to open Natasha’s door for her.

“To be adored, huh?” he said to Happy.

“You think that’s bad? I once got seduced, right as we were getting undressed she slips me a letter and asks me to give it to Tony. Turns out it was some risqué pictures and her cell…”

Clint wrinkled his nose.

“Gross.”

Natasha unbuckled her daughter and handed her to Clint.

Clint smiled and took the baby into his arms, pressing a careful kiss to her brow.

“She’s got these little white dots all over her nose.”

Natasha smiled.

“They’re normal.” she said as she slid out of the car to take her baby back and ran her finger down the bridge of her nose.

Clint smiled and wrapped his arm around her.

“…You’re beautiful.”

Natasha smiled and looked at him.

“You must be blind, I look like shit.”

Clint shook his head.

“Nope. Beautiful. Besides, if I am losing my eyesight, I’m out of a job.”

“We’re all out of a job Clint.” she muttered.

“Sorry to cut short this Hallmark moment, but can we move upstairs?” Happy sighed and nodded to the elevator.

Natasha nodded and moved towards the elevator.

Clint followed, his arm around his lover as she stepped into the elevator.

Happy leaned and pressed the button for the communal floor before hitting the ‘door close’ button’.

Clint looked at Happy.

“…why do they call you ‘Happy’?”

He shrugged.

“On account of my good sense of humour I s’ppose.”

Clint’s eyebrow raised as the lift moved up suddenly.

Immediately, the baby startled and started to cry.

“Oh…shhh…shhh…” Natasha began softly, cuddling her close. “I know, it takes some getting used to.”

Clint peered in to the bundle and stroked the baby’s pink fist.

“Hey…shh…come on…”

Happy wrinkled his eyes a little as he dealt with the piercing scream of a newborn in a small metal box.

Natasha looked up at Clint.

“Must be her ears.”

Clint looked to Natasha and then to his daughter.

“…You don’t think she’s…deaf do you?”

Natasha shook her head.

“Your deafness isn’t genetic.”

Clint swallowed the stale lump of panic away and nodded as the baby quietened. Natasha’s finger gently stroking her cheek.

“There we go, no more tears.” she soothed.

Clint smiled proudly at her.

“Add that to your resume.”he grinned.

The lift pulled to a stop.

“Welcome back.” Jarvis said pleasantly as the doors opened.


	4. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha and Clint bring home their unexpected bundle of Joy.

The communal living area that comprised of a communal kitchen, tv viewing area and a bar was decorated with pink everything.

Banners, balloons, streamers. On the coffee table was a cake stand full of pink and white cupcakes with two inch thick frosting and tiny pink icing pacifiers as well as other party food which Thor was hovering around with interest—obviously back from his tour of NY.

Happy patted Clint on the back and smirked.

“Good luck, buddy.” before heading back down to the garage in the elevator.

Pepper smiled and headed over to them.

“Welcome home!” she cheered softly and immediately made a beeline for the newborn baby.

Natasha smiled and held her a little more forwards for inspection.

Pepper smiled and peeled back the pink blanket a little more before her eyes creased up and her heart melted.

“…Oh Natasha, she’s beautiful.”

“Nay, do not say that.” Thor began, a cupcake in each hand and his lips and beard full of pink frosting. “It is inviting poor luck to inform a mother on the beauty of her baby. You must insist otherwise or else it shall invite the evil eye.”

Pepper looked from Thor to Natasha who shrugged.

“That’s what my babushka told me. Thor, I had no idea you were up to date on European superstitions.” Natasha said playfully.

Thor smiled and handed Clint a cupcake.

“It is my business to know these things. After all, these were the stories that I was brought up with. My mother would often tell us of the stories of the Midgardian’s and their belief systems.”

Clint made an impressed face.

“That said, if anyone tells me my daughter is ugly, they’ll wake up in intensive care.” he responded, taking the cupcake.

Thor laughed and patted his back knocking the Archer forwards a few inches.

Pepper was stroking the baby’s tiny fist and looking at her with something not unlike desperation.

“…do you want to hold her, Pepper?” Natasha asked finally.

Pepper nodded and quickly formed her arms into a text book cradle for her.

Natasha gently handed her over and smiled as the baby nestled comfortably in to Pepper’s arms.

“I am so sorry, I’m going to have to invite bad luck and say she’s beautiful.”

Clint smiled and offered Natasha half of his cup cake.

“She’s gorgeous, right?” he grinned as Natasha took it and started to eat.

Thor looked down at the child from behind Pepper.

“What have you decided her name shall be?” he asked.

Natasha looked up at the Asgardian and shook her head.

“We haven’t decided yet.”

“It is bad luck to have the child go without a name!” he decreed.

“Be fair, Thor. I didn’t know she was on her way until 60 minutes before she popped out of my va—”

“I’m sure the right name will come to you.” Pepper nodded, completely mesmerized by the baby. “How much did she weigh?”

“Why do women always ask that?” Clint asked. “It’s a baby, not the Thanksgiving turkey!”

“You try pushing a 7lb melon out of your peehole, then we’ll talk.” Natasha teased, slapping him playfully on the arm.

“7lbs?” Pepper smiled and looked over the baby again. “She’s tiny, then again, you didn’t show at all did you?”

Thor looked to Clint and made a subtle nod to the table where the food was.

Clint decided to let Natasha and Pepper have their baby bonding thing and join him.

He hadn’t really eaten properly in the last few days and everything on the table looked fantastic, including the napkins. Knowing Pepper, she’d probably tracked down edible napkins.

“How are you finding being a father?” Thor asked, gathering some party mix and putting it onto his pink paper plate.

“Fantastic.” Clint responded with a grin that seemed to erupt whenever he was reminded. “It was unexpected, sure. It’s terrifying, but…” he looked back at Natasha who was smiling at Pepper and nodding. “…She’s just had my baby, you know? It does something to you.”

Thor nodded.

“Frigga, was not my natural mother. But she was every inch the mother I needed, and more. They say that it is not biology that makes a family—It is what you do as a family that matters. I can think of no family that will be better bonded than yours, Barton.”

Clint paused over the buffet and looked up at him.

“…You think so?”

Thor nodded.

“I am certain. You would need to be a blind fool to think otherwise.”

Clint smiled.

“…Thanks Thor.”

Thor shook his head.

“She is a remarkable child. She is worthy of the name Natashadottir.”

Clint smirked and took a handful of candy.

“I think she’ll probably be a Barton.”

“Curious naming methods you have here on Midgard. They honor mainly the father yet it was the mother who sacrificed part of her life, her comfort, her womb and took on great pain to give them life.”

Clint paused over the snacks as Thor walked back towards Pepper.

“I know I bugged you a lot with pictures and prints, but I think you will be happy with the outcome.” Pepper beamed to Natasha, reluctantly parting company with the baby. “We have been airing the room for 2 days to get rid of any paint fumes and it’s fit for a princess.”

Natasha smiled.

“There really was no need, Pepper. I spent the first four weeks of my life in a towel lined drawer of my grandmothers dresser…”

Pepper nodded.

“I know, but please, indulge me.”

Natasha smiled as Pepper headed towards the lift.

Clint took his cue and put his food down, completely aware of the fact that it would probably in the gut of an Asgardian by the time he came back and headed to the elevator with Natasha and the baby.

Pepper pressed their floor number and stood a little way from the trio.

“Steve and Bruce are meeting with Maria in Starbucks.” she said softly, making small talk in a way that only Pepper could. “They have government spies on their tails pretty much all the time now, but they handle it well. They should be back in a while. They’re working on some sort of contingency plan.”

Natasha nodded.

“I take it that they don’t dare come near the tower anymore.”

Pepper smiled.

“Tony has reprogrammed Jarvis to play ACDC everytime someone starts to get too close to the gates. With the groupies enjoying it you can usually tell when the suit’s are there because they tend to strop away.”

Clint grinned.

The elevator doors opened to their apartment level.

Except, this couldn’t be their apartment level.

It was too damn clean.

Where was the laundry that hung around in various levels of clean?

Where was the takeout boxes they had left for the morning, about four days ago?

Where was the DVD’s scattered around the tv area and the endless parade of coffee cups?

This place was too clean to be their place.

“I tidied a little, figured with the little one taking up your time, you guys would be too busy.” Pepper began, walking in and heading towards the bedroom area.

Clint moved in to Natasha’s left and whispered in mock horror.

“…Oh My God. Do you think she knows we share a bed??”

Natasha grinned and looked back at him.

“Idiot.”

Pepper lead them to what was formerly Clint’s bedroom which now bore a cream door with various nursery themed wooden decorations and a large space.

“Eventually, you can put her name here if you’d like.” She opened the door and stood back, letting the new parents investigate the area.

The nursery was the exact shade of lilac she had picked with a cream coloured crib, changing table and dresser.

There were sets of teddies and soft toys surrounding a cream rocking chair in the corner and the place where Clint’s bed used to be now served as an activity zone the baby could enjoy when a little older.

The walls were lilac with a mural of a fairytale forest that had fairies, birds and beautiful, impossible flowers as well as trees and butterflies.

Natasha smiled as Clint’s jaw dropped.

“You picked purple.”

“Lilac.” Pepper corrected.

“No…Purple…” he smiled and looked to his lover. “For me?”

“For you.” she replied, blinking in that seductive way that drove him and ever other man insane, yet seemed as natural as breathing to her.

“…You’re fucking amazing, Tasha.”

Pepper cleared her throat a little.

“We’ve also set sensors in here that detect fluctuations in temperature, detect decibel levels and any form of ‘unauthorized’ movement which is part of our new security system. The walls, like all of the walls have built-in iron bars that prevent projectile attacks from destroying the building’s integrity, smash-proof windows and a Visual interface designed to interact with her. Jarvis can now sing lullabies.”

Clint grinned.

“Luckiest baby in the city. And what a view…”

“She’ll need to develop her focus first.” Pepper responded, peering at the baby again.

Natasha smiled and walked over to the crib.

“Perfect. Pepper how can we ever repay you?”

“Convince Tony that he’d be a good father and you’re already there.” she smiled, half jokingly. “Please, it was a pleasure. I think having a baby around will be good for everyone.”

Clint nodded.

“Pepper, what’s your real name again?”

“Virginia.” she said with a slight frown.

Clint didn’t need to be told twice that it wasn’t going to be a good idea to suggest naming the baby ‘Virginia’.

Natasha gently placed her daughter in her new bed.

Her daughter squirmed slightly and screwed her face up before letting out a loud wail.

Pepper wrung her hands slightly.

“Is the mattress too hard?”

“Nope, she’s just filled her diaper.” Natasha smiled and picked her up, kissing her cheek.

“Diapers are in the top drawer, next to fresh suits, hats, gloves…You’ll find your way around.” Pepper smiled, heading towards the elevator.

Clint turned.

“You’ll need t’invoice me.” he began. “How much all of this cost…I’ll need an invoice for my accountant.”

“Clint, I’ve done your taxes for 2 years now.” Pepper smiled. “And please, consider it a gift from Tony.”

“We could—”

“Consider it a gift.” she replied more firmly. “I’ll leave you three to settle back in. Let Jarvis know if you need us.”

Natasha smiled, stroking her screaming daughter’s back soothingly.

“Thank you…For everything, Pepper.”

Pepper nodded to Clint, and left.

Clint looked around the room.

“Purple.”

“Lilac.”

“Same thing…just more…her.”


	5. What's in a name?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha and Clint are still at loggerheads about a name

Clint didn’t recall falling asleep.

In fact, he wasn’t sure how he’d made it to bed, got under the covers, taken his boots and hoody off and managed to doze until it was dark outside but as he shifted his head awkwardly towards the dim light that illuminated one half of Natash—their bedroom, he became aware of her presence.

It was something he had grown accustomed to.

In the earliest days of their working relationship, he realized that she was even quieter than he was and could creep up on him—and did so. Regularly. Taking amusement in the startle he’d perform when she appeared over his shoulder and asked what he was doing.

Soon, he became accustomed to the small things she did not realize herself. The way she breathed.

Her natural scent, when unmasked by perfume. And even the quiet flow of energy that seemed to move in the space between her and everything else.

Her silence could speak volumes.

At least to a deaf guy like him.

He peered over the thick edge of the red cotton duvet and looked to see her next to the window in the chair, carrying something close to her chest in the crook of her arm.

She was holding the baby.

Reaching to the bedside cabinet quietly to retrieve the hearing aids that Natasha must have taken from him he focused a little on her and noticed she was speaking to his daughter and slid each hearing aid into his ear before clicking them on.

The initial crackling soon faded as he picked up on her voice.

She hadn’t stopped.

She hadn’t heard him rustling the covers or even sitting up to watch..

She was completely enamoured with the baby in her arms.

She was talking to her, softly.

So softly he couldn’t catch the words.

Moving forwards, he looked to the pair and saw that Natasha was feeding her.

Breastfeeding.

Clint sat back on the bed, a little, disorientated, and even embarrassed.

He’d seen Natasha’s breasts thousands of times. Their image was imprinted on his subconscious and usually served as a screen saver for his brain when he was unoccupied, but seeing them in this capacity felt a little, indecent. Something he shouldn’t be interloping on.

“I can hear you…Clint.” she began softly.

“…Sorry. How did I—-”

“You suggested we order Pizza, I went to get the menu, you fell asleep.”

“Sorry.”

“You needed the sleep.” she smiled. “Besides, I’ve hardly been bored.”

Clint decided to crawl over the bed towards her and watched her feeding the baby.

His daughter was feeding hungrily at Natasha’s left breast, all curled up and red faced from effort.

“…So you’re gonna do the…breast feeding…thing.”

Natasha nodded.

“For now, sure.” she nodded. “The books said it was her best start, and seeing I wasn’t really popping the vitamins and doing pilates during my pregnancy, I thought I’d make up for it now.”

Clint crawled off the bed and rested his head on her shoulder looking down at his daughter, his hand on Natasha’s waist.

He pressed a soft kiss to Natasha’s cheek.

“What about Alexandra?”

“Clint. No. No Russian names, give the poor kid a chance.” she replied softly, stroking the baby’s thin, red hair.

“You have a Russian name.” he responded, nuzzling under her ear.

“Yes, and thankfully it’s not that ‘Russian’. Russia still has a bleak history. You say you’re Russian and people think: ‘KGB, Rasputin, Cossacks, Vodka and Stalin’. It’s hardly a fair start to give her a name like that.”

Clint moved from her shoulder, and sat down in front of her on the footstool.

“Could ask Thor if he knows any good names? Asgardian names? I think his friend is called ‘Sif’.”

Natasha’s eyebrow arched.

“Sif.”

“Yeah, I think.”

Natasha smiled and shook her head.

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, what do you think?” Clint asked. “We can’t keep calling her ‘the baby’. We need to register her right? What are we gonna put on her birth certificate?”

“What are we going to put as our jobs? ‘Terrorist and Assassin’ don’t give the best impressions.”

Clint’s left cheek tugged his lips into a crooked smile.

“I guess.”

The baby moved its head away from Natasha and began to grizzle.

“Full up.” Natasha decided and put the baby gently over her shoulder, tucking herself away as she did with a wince.

“I’ll do it.” Clint offered. He’d been reading up on ‘winding’ techniques and wanted to prove himself.

Natasha smiled and gently handed her over.

“Careful, she’s ready to burst.”

Clint took her and put her over his shoulder before rubbing her small back with the flat of his hand, upwards to bring up her wind.

“Usually, when I wind someone they end up on the floor for fifteen minutes panting for breath.” he said, resting his head slightly against his daughters, enjoying the feeling of her soft skin on his roughened cheek.

Natasha nodded.

“It’s weird right? Suddenly being all gentle? Planning your day around feeds, naps and diaper changes?”

Clint nodded.

“Good weird.” he replied as his daughter gave a watery belch.

He grinned and pulled her away from his shoulder.

“Wow. I’ll rate that a 3.5. Not quite as good as your Pops, but you’ve got talent.”

His daughter’s face was reddening.

“…That’s poop, right?” he asked.

“Yup.” Natasha smiled. “I’m going for a bath. You can deal with it.”

Clint sighed and nodded.

“On it.”

*

After a nappy change and suit change, Clint put her down for a nap after asking Natasha if it was alright.

She was happy for her to get some rest and said that it was fine as she planned to bathe her later.

Clint was sat next to the crib for some time, watching her sleep.

Jarvis insisted that he was capable of monitoring ‘Baby Barton-Romanoff’ and told Clint that he needn’t stay but Clint wanted to.

In all of his life, he had always doubted pretty much everything he did. Well, pretty much everything except his archery.

The only time he ever felt sure was when his arrow hit its mark.

But this baby. Well, it felt right.

Looking at her. Her skin, her hair, her fingers.

Her fingernails…

It was all perfect.

And somehow, she had got the best bits of Natasha, and somehow found the better bits of him, and made this amazing thing.

And she was his daughter.

He was going to be pushing her stroller around town and little old ladies were gonna look in the stroller and coo and he would say: ‘oh yeah, that’s my daughter’

He was gonna take her to Kindergarten, introduce himself as her dad to the teachers.

He was gonna vet her boyfriends (or girlfriends) and tell them she was to be home by 10pm or he would be out with Iron Man looking for her.

This girl was his daughter.

This beautiful girl.

And he was her dad.

Clint sniffed back a few rogue tears that were moistening up his eye and rubbed his face.

He needed a shave.

“Jarvis…keep an eye on her okay? She wakes up, you call me.”

“Sir.” Jarvis responded, slightly quieter than he would normally be.

Clint wandered into the bathroom that was adjoined to their room and grunted to Natasha which was his way of announcing his presence.

“She alright?” she mumbled, her eyes closed, surrounded by mountains and valleys of bubbles.

“Out like a light…” he began, filling the basin with warm water and reaching for his shaving foam. “She’s gorgeous, Tasha.”

“I know.” Natasha’s voice glowed.

“Bella?”

“…I didn’t know you spoke Italian.” she teased.

“No, for a name, Bella.”

Natasha’s green eyes snapped open.

“Sure. Why not…it’s not like every other girl her age will be called Bella, or Renee, Esme or Alice.”

“You’re makin’ fun of me.” he grunted and smeared the foam over his bristly face.

“I’m saving her from being associated with that drivel.”

“You sure are opinionated for someone who has no ideas.” he muttered, wetting the razor and dragging it down his cheek.

“I just don’t want her to be named for some pathetic damsel in distress.” she said, sitting up, the suds running down her body.

“…I get you.” he replied, washing off the razor and starting again. “Then again, Alice isn’t a bad name.”

Natasha ran her hands over her face and yawned.

“You must be tired.”

She nodded.

“I really am. I never get this tired.”

Clint grinned and washed the hair off the razor.

“You gave birth a few days ago Nat, I think you earned a nap.”

She rested her head back against the tub’s rim.

“Think I have time before everyone else wants to see her?”

Clint nodded.

“I’ll let them know you’re napping and that to wake you would bring about the apocalypse.”

She gave a soft breath of amusement, the closest she got to actually laughing.

“Sounds good.”

Clint finished shaving and let the dirty water out of the sink, towel drying his face.

“Who knows, I might join you.”

She looked up at him and smiled.

“That would be nice.”

She stood up and stepped out onto the bathmat.

Wet from the hot bath.

Suds rolling down her body.

Clint felt his trousers get tighter around the crotch and a dull ache in his stomach that only she could satisfy.

“Natasha…” he rumbled chestily.

“No chance.” she replied, grabbing a towel and tucking it around herself. “Wash out the sink, and give your left hand my thanks.”

Clint watched her leave for the bedroom with a smirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((I actually had to ask my fiancee what an erection felt like. Awkward))


	6. Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce Banner makes a surprise visit. He's been shopping...

Clint had been asleep for around half an hour when Jarvis announced himself softly.

“Sir. A visitor is requesting access to your level.”

Clint sat up, his head had been nestled into Natasha’s hair and his hands hooked around her waist. He blinked a few times as a lamp came on just besides him.

“…s’it?” he muttered, rubbing his eye.

“Doctor Banner, Agent Barton.”

“…Bruce?”

“Indeed, sir.”

“…He okay?”

“He is sir. May I let him access the level?”

Clint nodded and looked back at Natasha on the bed.

“Sure…Sure…”

He pressed a kiss to the side of Natasha’s head and heaved himself up on the bed. He’d fallen asleep with his hearing aids in. Something he didn’t do as much now that he was living with Natasha. If he crashed out on the couch, he sometimes woke up in bed, sometimes on the couch still, blanket, pillow, and hearing aids sat side by side on his bedside table.

Her lips were parted sleepily and she had that fantastic smell that she tended to pretty much exuded when she slept, that clean, warm, scent that was ALL her.

He sighed and walked towards the nursery, popped his head in to check on the baby.

She was still fast asleep. Her tiny fists curled up near her face. Her nose making a soft snuffling noise as she breathed.

Clint smiled sleepily and headed towards the living area, pulling on a hoody and heading to the elevator that opened onto their area.

The floor numbers dialled down until they hit his floor and the sleek, chrome doors opened.

Bruce Banner was stood there with a metal tin in gold paint with a red design in his right hand and his left scratching the back of his head.

“Hey Bruce…” smiled Clint, a little tiredly.

Bruce smiled.

“Hey…can I—”

The doors began to close, both men caught them.

“Come in.” Clint offered and stood back, giving the Doctor room to enter the apartment.

Bruce stepped in and nodded somewhat awkwardly to him.

They had been living the tower with Doctor Banner for almost 6 months now. And he was still a little awkward on social interactions with them.

Then again, Clint supposed that avoiding human contact for almost three years on the run could do that to a guy.

“How’s it going Bruce?”

He nodded.

“Good. Good. We’re working on a prototype for a coolant for Stark’s—” he stopped speaking and smiled. “—sorry…”

Clint smiled and shook his head.

“No. It’s normal. Normal is welcome right now.”

Bruce smiled and looked towards the kitchen.

“What’s in the tin?” Clint smiled, folding his arms.

“Oh…” he began and nodded, looking at it. “…There’s a good, tea-shop. It’s in China Town, Bayard street. They do this really great Raspberry leaf tea. I asked the person in the shop, they said it heals…after traumatic births. I got some, I know that Natasha’s tolerance to medication is quite high so, I figured she may wanna give this a shot.”

Clint nodded and took the tin as Bruce offered it to him.

“This is great. Natasha loves her fruit teas…” he improvised, though he couldn’t be sure Natasha had ever tried it. “…can I smell it?”

Bruce nodded.

“Instructions are on the side. I drink their Ashwaganda tea. They…import it.”

Clint nodded as he prised off the metal lid and quickly dipped his nose into the tub.

It smelled slightly spicy, not a hint of raspberry.

He felt slightly cheated.

“…Hmmm. Well, Thanks Bruce. I really appreciate it, on her behalf. She’ll look forwards to a cup of that when she wakes.”

“She getting lots of rest?” Bruce began, looking up at him, holding his hands together now that they were unoccupied.

“She fell asleep about an hour ago.” Clint nodded.

Bruce nodded.

“Kinda took us all by surprise.” Bruce responded, sitting down on the arm of the couch. “Tony asked Jarvis to wake us, we all gathered in the living area, told us Natasha was giving birth. Steve asked who the father was…”

Clint’s smile broke into a laugh.

“So damn innocent.”

“He really does have this innocence to him.” Bruce concurred, smiling a little wider and looking down at his shoes. “…You’d need to be blind and deaf to not know you two have something going on.”

Clint smiled and put the tea on the table before sitting on the arm of the armchair opposite.

“Yeah…”

“How was the birth?” Bruce asked, casting a half glance at Clint.

“It was…unexpected. Her waters broke at the hospital, she was pretty much mostly dilated, gave birth within the hour. Straight forwards enough—once we figured out what it was.”

“And no complications.” Bruce responded.

“No. Baby’s a little smaller than usual, but healthy enough.”

Bruce smiled a little more freer, his thumb rubbing a scuff on his shoe.

“I lived in Calcutta…saw…what you’d call miracles…men entrancing snakes with music in the marketplace, Fakirs performing amazing tricks, holy men with death defying tolerance to fire, to pain—Natasha Romanoff giving birth is pretty much a miracle.”

Clint nodded.

“We didn’t know it was possible. The experimentation left her pretty much barren. We don’t know the exact specifics. But here we are…”

“Have you named her?”

Clint shook his head.

The question was becoming an embarrassment.

“Can’t quite find the right name.” he smiled, casting a look back towards the nursery. “Don’t know any good girl’s names do you?”

“I know _one_.” he said softly, looking towards the windows that were now dimming with the fading sunset.

A loud crying pierced the silence as Clint sprang to his feet. He was smiling again.

“Come on Bruce, you can come and see her.”

Bruce got to his feet slowly and sloped after Clint who was almost in the nursery, moving to the cradle.

Clint picked up the squirming, screaming bundle and held her in his arms again.

“Alright…Alright. I got you, shhh…”

Bruce’s glasses were out of his pocket and on his face as Clint turned around with the baby.

“Bruce, this is…’Screamy’ Barton…—Romanoff.” he responded with a musing after thought.

Bruce smiled and leaned forwards near imperceptibly.

“Oh Dear…” he said softly, his voice quiet, sympathetic to the child’s sobs.

Clint held her up a little more and sniffed her backside before shaking his head. “Nope…not poop.”

Bruce studied her.

“Maybe its colic. Have you rubbed her stomach?”

“Colic? The hell is that?” Clint asked, patting her back.

“You have to rub her stomach, it’s incomplete dig—just rub her stomach. Not near her umbilical cord though. Don’t want to disturb—”

“I winded her though.” Clint retorted. “She doesn’t have wind—”

“Yeah, babies get colic. When did she last feed?”

“Few hours ago…”

“Maybe she’s hungry.” he suggested.

“Maybe. I’ll go wake Natasha. Take her for me?”

“I…Uh—Oh.”

Bruce found himself with a screaming baby girl in his arms as he looked at Clint’s retreating back.

“Back in a second.”

Clint headed towards the bedroom to get Natasha.

Bruce glanced down at the squirming, squealing baby girl in his arms and his head and heart went to that place he always tried to bar it from.

Stroking the baby’s cheek with a shaking thumb, Bruce felt his heart sink a little and instead swallowed back the thickness of his Adams apple before shushing her softly, and taking her fist in between his thumb and forefinger.

Clint returned with a half sleepy Natasha but as he went to walk in, Natasha stopped him by putting an arm across his middle.

“Wait.” she whispered.

“…why?”

“…let him, just…give him a minute.”

“Why?”

Natasha gave him the: ‘Trust me’ look.

Clint nodded and stood back, Natasha’s hand on his chest as he observed the Doctor holding the now quietening baby, his eyes moving over her with something that wasn’t entirely amazement, but something like yearning.

A fragile smile came over the man’s face as the baby became quiet and looked up at the person holding her.

For some reason, Clint suddenly wanted to know what the name was that Bruce knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reason I put a lot of ellipsis in Bruce's speech is that I have noticed that he has a very haltered way of speaking. As if he is almost planning or censoring what he is going to say next. 
> 
> \---
> 
> Also, I apologise for the delay. IRL has been annoying me.


	7. Fossils bearing gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve pays the new family a visit

Natasha was sat with a cup of raspberry leaf tea on the table besides the couch as Clint smirked as he read the ‘exclusive’ story in the daily gutter press dated a few days back, the day after the baby was born.

“Natasha Romanoff—aka, Avenger: Black Widow, 31…”

Natasha scoffed.

“Rude.”

“…was rushed into hospital last night following a suspected attack on Stark’s recently refurbished Avengers tower—however, inside reports—”

“Bullshit and conjecture.” Natasha translated.

“—suggest that the busty Russian Red-Head may have been involved in an embarrassing injury following a erotic faux-pas!”

Natasha smirked and looked down at her daughter who was feeding from her.

“…Well, they’re not wrong.”

Clint smirked and carried on reading.

“Yadda-yadda-yadda—Clinton Barton—Jeez, I hate that, aka, Hawkeye has long time been romantically linked with the voluptuous soviet fox was seen leaving the hospital not long after worse for wear, but otherwise in good spirits. More to follow.”

Natasha shook her head.

“They do love their precious gossip…”

“They’re gonna have a field day when they see me parading her around in a papoose around New York city.” Clint replied, throwing the paper in the trash.

“No papooses. Pram’s and pushchairs. Bulletproof sides.” Natasha smiled and ran a hand over her baby’s head.

“Any idea on names?”

“A few. None that I actually like.” she sighed. “I can’t seem to agree on a name I think suits her.”

“What’s Russian for ‘surprise’?”

“Surprise? _Syurpriz._ ”

“Oh.”

“What?” Natasha smiled.

“I thought I’d be more…well, less…English. What about ‘Unexpected’?”

“You want to call our first born daughter ‘unexpected’?”

“Well, the Russian fo—”

“ _Neozhidannyy_.”

Clint gave his smiling lover an abashed smile.

“Sorry.”

“You’re trying.”

“We leave it any longer, Nat. The kid will name herself.”

Natasha nodded.

“I missed my pregnancy, rushed her birth, don’t wanna ruin this.”

Clint got up from his seat on the floor and crawled onto the couch next to her, laying his head on her shoulder the way he always did when he wanted to try and comfort her.

She smiled and gave a soft breath of amusement.

“Natasha, you aren’t gonna ruin this. I promise you. You’re gonna be fine…better than fine. This kid is gonna have the coolest mom at kindergarten. All the other mom’s are gonna be like…accountants…waitresses…police officers…and you’re gonna be the avenger who turns up to drop the kid off with Tony Stark or Captain America…”

She half smiled.

“…will it be safe to let her go to kindergarten?”

“Future’s a long way off baby. We’ll see how we go.” he soothed, kissing the soft skin of her neck before reaching to stroke his daughter’s head.

Natasha smiled and stroked his fingers.

“Sir.” Jarvis began.

“God-damn it Jarvis, can’t you see we’re sharing a tender family moment here? How would you like it if next time you tried to update I came up to you, started circuit-blocking your ass?” Clint teased as Natasha chuckled softly.

“…I apologise. Miss. Potts formally requests your presence for dinner. I believe she has made special arrangements to welcome the arrival of your daughter.”

Natasha rested her head on Clint’s tiredly.

The small movement spoke volumes over how tired she was, how much she didn’t want to sit at a formal dinner, how she didn’t want to disturb the now calm baby, how the small, thirty-five minute visit of one of the least-socially strenuous member of the Avengers had wiped her out.

“Jarvis. Natasha is real tired. I don’t think she can do a meal.”

“No…its okay.” Natasha began quietly.

“Baby, you’re tired. You need to rest. Breast feeding, coping with body changes, recovering lost…stuff…”

“Pepper went to trouble.” Natasha replied.

“Let Stark deal with it. You, me, Chinese take out. Early night—not in the kinky sense, in the foot-rub, back-rub, me-being-the-big-spoon sense…”

She smiled.

“That a ‘yes’?”

She nodded.

“Jarvis, tell Pepper that we are…uh….very grateful, but Natasha is tired…and needs some ‘me time’ and seeing as she just made me a father…I’m not gonna argue.”

“As you wish Sir.”

Natasha smiled at him and snuggled against him again.

“She’s got my appetite.” Clint smiled down at the baby.

“Sir.”

“Jarvis.” Clint now sighed.

“Miss. Potts appreciates your concern and will have the food stored for you but Captain Rogers respectfully requests a few moments of your time.”

“Steve?”

“Sir.”

“Uh…sure…sure…” he looked down to Natasha who was sat up and carefully removing the baby from her breast.

Natasha nodded.

“Can’t exactly turn Captain America away.” she said.

Clint stood up.

“Send him down in ten…” he ordered softly.

Natasha put the baby over her shoulder and rubbed her back, her cheek pressed against her baby’s head.

“Kid’s seen more celebrities in the first few days of her life than most other people will in their entire life.”

Natasha nodded and hummed softly to the baby in her arms.

Clint smiled admiringly.

“Y’know…technically, I should marry you…” he said off hand.

“…Is that a proposal…?” she asked softly. Her voice weaving through the air like a silk scarf on a windy day.

Clint swallowed uncomfortably. He was expecting it to be shot down with a scowl or a glare.

“…uh…I…well…”

Clint would marry Natasha in a heart beat. He would marry her, anywhere, any time, without hesitation.

To have that beautiful redhead not only in his bed, but in his home, taking his name, wearing his ring, and being his wife would be his idea of…well, not heaven, because Natasha was wonderful, but no angel.

No…it would be his idea…well, he’d take a desk job at a 9-5 every day in a suit as long as he could come home to Natasha…

“…I…well, the offer’s there…” he muttered, picking at the dead skin around his thumbnail.

“At ease Barton. I’m not gonna be anyone’s wife.”

Clint felt partially hurt, but partially relieved.

He didn’t think he could deal with Natasha all domesticated. She could barely boil water. Let alone bake cakes and serve dinners.

He kissed her cheek and made for the kitchen to deliver her empty cup into the sink.

The baby gave a watery belch and whimpered.

“Clint, bib please.”

Clint walked over with a clean, light pink bib that had been in a freshly laundered pile in the nursery and wiped up the baby’s chin and mouth.

“All clean, Buttercup.” he smiled, kissing her forehead.

“Captain Rogers is trying to gain access, shall I permit him?”

“Sure Jarvis.” Clint responded automatically as he folded the bib up and threw it in the laundry basket beside the bathroom.

Natasha sat up and cuddled the baby closer to her.

“You need to learn to hold your drink.” she chuckled.

“Like you?” Clint teased.

“You know I can.”

The elevator’s numbers began to scroll down again as Clint stood next to the door in anticipation.

Steve hadn’t known about their relationship and as such probably had a very dim view of an work relationship turning personal.

He had vague. Half dreamt images of him turning up, shotgun in hand, driving him to the alter to marry Natasha.

The doors opened.

Steve Rogers stepped out, a pink gift bag dangling from one impressively built fist and a genuine smile on his face.

“Hey Barton.” he began, patting the man’s arm and shaking his hand.

“Steve.” Clint responded, looking towards Natasha who was sat, a proud smile on her own face.

The two had served together during SHIELD’s fall and Steve had got her out of a tight spot when Zola had programmed the missile to bomb their location and they had fought to bring HYDRA down.

“…Hey Steve.”

“Natasha.” Steve smiled and walked over, putting the gift bag on the coffee table.

There was an awkward silence as Steve beamed at the baby, Natasha, Clint, then back at the baby.

“…she got a name yet?”

“We were hoping you could help us out there. You know any good names?” Clint smiled.

“Uh…sure…Sarah, Peggy, I knew a girl called Monica once.”

Clint looked to Natasha appraisingly.

She didn’t look impressed.

“…So you two are—”

“Apparently.” she smiled teasingly.

“…I guess you don’t approve of personal relationships in work?” Clint asked, folding his arms, peering into the pink gift bag.

“…You kidding? I was dating the first Director of SHIELD before I went in the ocean…” Steve smirked. “I…always assumed it was you two who didn’t let relationships into the work place. I’d have put money on you two getting together.”

“Well we did.”

“You would have been pregnant during SHIELD’s fall.” Steve remarked.

“Yeah.”

“And you had no idea?”

“Not a clue.”

“Wow.” Steve smiled. “Am I gonna get a hold?”

Natasha nodded and stood, holding her out a little for him.

“Careful, she just ate.”

Steve smiled and reached out for her.

“…She’s small.” Steve remarked.

Clint had to admit, she was tiny when nestled in the arms of a six foot something super-soldier but she seemed content to stare up at him, even if she couldn’t entirely make him.

“…She’s cute.” Steve smiled. “Real cute, got your looks, Natasha. Gonna be a heart-breaker.”

Clint felt an internal ache of predicted misery as he vetted her future boyfriends.

“…yeah.”

Steve stroked the baby’s cheek.

“Bruce came in earlier. Completely enamoured with her.” Natasha smiled. “He kept stroking her hair and rocking her.”

“Maybe she has your way, Natasha. Getting all the guys on side before she’s even got a name.”

Natasha smiled, resting her chin on her hand.

“Maybe.”

“…We’ll make sure she’s safe…” Steve began. “I know…well, I always assumed it would be Tony to have the first kid in our group. You know? But, we’ll be sure, we’ll keep her safe.”

Natasha looked to Steve and then Clint before nodding.

“…I know you will. I trust you.”

Steve looked back down at the baby, smiling with renewed vigour.

“I’m gonna teach you baseball…I’m gonna actually learn how to dance so I can dance with you…”

“Captain America is gonna be our babysitter.” Clint grinned.

“Sure. I’ll bring Sharon round.”

“…wait, who’s Sharon?”


	8. Baby, bath and beyond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baby's first bath time at home reveals more than just the right temperature

Clint was watching Natasha as she bathed the baby.

Natasha had taken a cursory glance at the large, full-colour pictures in the book that Pepper had bought for them as a curiously unwrinkled newborn was getting a text book bath and decided that she probably had it down.

Setting the small, opaque plastic bath on the rug in the sitting room, Clint had poured water into it, baby bubble bath, and doing a fantastic impression of the lady in the picture, dipped his wrist into the water to ensure it was just right.

Now Natasha had her arm around the squirming bundle of limbs and outstretched fingers, gently squeezing a natural sponge around her navel.

Clint had to be entirely honest—the baby’s navel, which was still a little bit of cord with a tie clamped over it—freaked him out. But from what he knew, it would dry off and would form a little navel.

Hopefully an innie.

But the look…

The look on Natasha’s face…

The look on her face…her arm wrapped around the wriggling, gurgling baby.

Her baby.

As she soaped her stomach, her legs, her arms.

That smile.

Her laugh.

Clint was watching her completely unabashed.

Hungrily.

This was all he had, and all he wanted.

This was everything.

She smiled.

And everything was perfect.

Everything.

He could sit here, until his skin turned to paper. His blood turned to dust and be content to watch nothing more than see her…and their baby.

Bonding.

This…stone statue of a woman.

Ice Queen.

Femme Fatale.

Master Assassin…

Black Widow.

Smiling because of her baby’s expression when she first felt water on her tummy.

He ran his hands over his face and smiled, content and comfortable.

Natasha smiled and leaned over to grab the towel snug.

“Can I?” Clint smiled.

“Sure…” she replied. “Get ready to hold her.”

Natasha scooped her out and put her into Clint’s arms as the baby made some fretful noises at the loss of warm and sudden movement.

“Awh…Come on, don’t be crying every time you come to your daddy…” Clint smiled.

“The water must have reminded her of being inside.” Natasha smiled and got up, picking up the soiled bath water as Clint cuddled his daughter in the soft toweling robe.

“Yeah…Well kid, I gotta tell you. Out here is louder…colder…sometimes not so safe. But we’re out here…and we’re gonna look after you.”

“Did anyone get a hold of Nick?”

“Director Fury—sorry, former Director Fury?” smiled Clint. “Nope. Last we heard he was in Bruges looking into a Hydra safe-house. Or so he told Tony. Then again, you know Fury plays his cards close to his chest. Could be in a studio flat in Brooklyn for all I know.”

Natasha smiled as headed to the bathroom, to empty the bath.

“She didn’t cry. I was expecting tears.” She heard him say from the sitting room. “…I always cried at bath-time.”

Natasha paused over the sink, her hand on the faucet.

“…ice cold showers because dad wouldn’t pay to get the boiler replaced. Mom used to boil a kettle in the winter—dad complained we were spending too much on gas.

Get dried off with some rough-ass towel. If I cried I’d get a beating from my dad. Barney used to hold his hand over my mouth when we got toweled off. Stop me from waking him…saved my ass a fair few times.”

Natasha sighed and walked back into the sitting room, preparing to comfort him.

But to her surprise he was smiling.

Smiling at the toweling bundle in his arms. His arms wrapped around her, his thumb stroking her chin as she stared back at him.

“…It’s gonna be hot baths, warm showers, soft towels, rubber ducks, novelty soaps, all that crap you find at _‘Bed, Bath and Beyond’_ for you…’cos you’re my kid. And I’m gonna do it all right.”

Natasha found herself leaning against the door frame, watching him.

She knew Clint backwards.

She knew his patterns. His sleeping cycle. The way he ate his breakfast. His favourite way to fold his shirts when going on a mission.

This was something new.

His father’s physical and mental abuse of him and his brother, Barney was no secret. Hell, Clint would happily reel off his list of fractures over a coffee. But this was different.

This was Clint using what had happened, reversing it and promising his daughter everything he hadn’t had. And promising that she would never have to go through what she did.

This was therapy—in the most beautiful way.

Clint stood up from his kneeling position.

“Come on…lets get a diaper on you before you pee everywhere.”

*

Natasha was in bed early that night. She had fed her daughter, spent some time cuddling her to sleep before putting her down for the night.

But Clint’s mind was racing a mile-a-minute despite having very little sleep for a few days.

He asked Jarvis to inform him if ‘Baby Barton-Romanoff’ woke and headed upstairs to see if perhaps Tony was still around or even if Thor was wandering around tampering with Tony’s stuff.

Riding the elevator up, he stepped out into the main area and found the TV on, and Bruce sat at the kitchen counter with a sea of papers.

“Hey.”

Bruce pulled back a little to check who it was and slid up his glasses.

“Oh…hey.” he smiled.

Bruce’s smile always seemed like it was being held up by shaky scaffolding.

“Hey. Natasha’s sound-o. Baby’s making this cute snoring noise…and I can’t sleep so…” Clint shrugged.

“Same here…Brain’s…feels like a self-perpetuating dynamo…” he muttered, scribbling something in the margin of the block of text he was reading. He looked up at Clint.

“Though, I’m guessing for you. It must be…full of…”

Clint nodded.

“Yeah. Completely.” he replied awkwardly, trying to continue the conversation with very little to go on.

Bruce nodded.

Clint sat on the counter opposite to where Bruce was working and pulled an orange from the ever-plentiful fruit bowl and began to peel it.

“How does it feel?”

Clint looked up. His hand on the orange.

Bruce was sat, pressing the clicking mechanism of the pen into his palm, his eyes intent on his.

“…what?”

“…being a father…” Bruce muttered, looking away.

“Oh.” Clint began, putting the orange down and trying not to make it seem like a mind-blowing question. “…uh…It’s strange. I’m not really…feeling anything yet. Feels kinda…well, if I’m like reading, or watching TV, or washing my hands, it’ll suddenly hit me like: 'Dude, you're a dad', and I’ll get really happy. And if I’m holding her, it’s like everything she does is really fascinating. Like to me, before kids were kids.

You know, drooling, pooping, screaming blobs of skin. But, you’re like, holding her and you’re feeling her wriggle around and she’s warm and you’re like, looking at her in minute detail. Like her fingernails, and you’re looking at her hair and saying: _'That's Nat's hair colour.', 'That's the shape of my mouth’, 'That's my mom's nose.'_ and you realize she’s…well, she’s yours. She’s got bits of you…and they’re all the right bit—Bruce? Are you okay?”

Bruce was sat, his hands in his lap, his eyes lowered.

Bruce nodded.

“…Yes.”

Clint was no Dr. Phil.

But Clint had instincts.

Instincts kept him alive in the field and in Natasha’s good books.

“…Bruce…what’s the name you know…?”

Bruce moved his gaze up to Clint. Panic narrowing the pupils.

“…w…what?”

“…upstairs, earlier…you said you knew a name. What was it…?”

Bruce traced his bottom lip with his tongue and gave an apologetic smile.

Something he always did when put under social pressure.

“…I…really don’t remember, Barton….” he started to gather his papers. “…Look, you look…exhausted, you’re gonna get around 3-5 hours a night for the next 3 years that’s an average of 4380 hours worth of sleep. I’d catch up if I were you…”

“Bruce.”

Bruce had already got his paper and left, some of them falling behind as he left.

Clint sighed and wished he had Natasha’s flair for small talk as he bent down and scooped up a paper, he took a quick look at it.

It was an old paper on Radiobiology with oodles of neat, red notes in the margins, underlined bits and at the bottom, perhaps the only part without additions was the author’s name.

_Dr. Elizabeth Ross._

Clint looked over the single page, the last, in a batch of 7, according to the footnote and decided to fold it up, put it in his pocket, and show it to Natasha when she woke.

Maybe she could figure out what had spooked Bruce.


	9. Security issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint starts his day by realizing that he may have messed up already...

When Clint woke the next morning, the bed next to him was empty.

Lifting his head, he looked around and saw the blinds opening, but no Natasha.

Reaching across for his hearing aids, he pushed them into his ears, adjusting to the sudden crisping noises and yawned, rubbing his face, getting up on one elbow.

“…Jarvis…”

“Sir.”

“Where’s ‘Tasha?”

“Agent Romanoff is with Baby Romanoff-Barton in the kitchen area of this level.”

“Barton-Romanoff.” Clint corrected, leaning back on his elbow and rubbing his eyes.

“Override denied.”

Clint gave the TV screen that Jarvis usually displayed his data on a slightly toxic stare.

“…Excuse me?”

“Agent Romanoff has locked alterations of that name.”

Clint heaved himself out of bed, pulled up his sleeping boxers a little and stumbled into the hallway.

He heard a slow tinkling of silver on china and realized that Natasha was trying her tea again, which probably meant it was feeding time.

He’d raise the topic later.

He needed a shower.

The hot water did a good job of waking him up and cycling his brain into thinking about last night and his encounter with the usually quiet nuclear physicist upstairs.

Asking him a pretty innocuous question had led to him hi-tailing out of there, dropping half his paperwork.

Clint got out of the shower and did a slap-dash job of his shaving as he usually did while wondering what had gone on in Bruce’s head, in his past—before realizing he knew precious little about their house mate.

Sure, he was a genius, a nuclear physicist who had been found in Calcutta and when provoked could turn into something that resembled _El Gigante_ from _Resident Evil 4_ in Green, but other than that, not much else.

They just kind of…lived along side each other.

He was just Bruce. Bruce with his Teas. Bruce with his purple shirts. Bruce with his nerdy jokes with Tony. Bruce who enjoyed the rain for some reason and rarely made eye contact with Tony’s more boisterous friends. Bruce the nocturnal eco-warrior who went through the bins in the night and recycled half of the stuff they threw out and left out polite but passive aggressive post its on what can and cannot be recycled.

He didn’t really know much about him at all.

Heading out to the kitchen area after getting changed, he found Natasha changing the baby’s nappy on the changing mat on the floor. She was smiling as she kissed the baby’s foot and clipped the nappy closed.

“What time did you get up?”

Natasha turned her head and smiled, returning the attention back to the baby.

“…half six.” she smiled and popped the press-studs on the vest-suit.

“She slept through?” Clint smiled.

“Not quite.” Natasha replied pulling the baby back into her suit, a pale peach colour today.

“I didn’t hear her.” Clint replied, sitting on the arm of the armchair.

“I took your hearing aids out.”

“…Why?”

“You looked tired.”

Clint shook his head and smiled. Both irritated that she’d given up her own sleep for him and impressed she’d slid his hearing aids out of his ears without him knowing.

“What time did you get to bed?” she asked, scooping up the baby and putting her over her shoulder.

Clint found his gaze being drawn by the two dark blue eyes that were today wide and trying to find something to focus on.

“Hey Princess!” Clint beamed, looking to his daughter and accidentally ignoring Natasha’s question.

The baby made a startled head jerk.

“She heard me.” Clint grinned as Natasha smiled, taking the baby into her arms and moving her to look at Clint.

“Of course she did. She knows your voice.”

Clint smiled and stroked the baby’s cheek, his other hand resting on Natasha’s elbow.

“I was worried. I know it’s dumb, but I was worried about her hearing. I mean…I know this…” he patted his ear carelessly. “Isn’t genetic, but…”

“They tested her at the hospital. She’s fine.” Natasha soothed.

Clint nodded and smiled at her.

“She’s gorgeous, Nat.”

Natasha nodded.

“Yeah. She is.”

Clint stood up and moved to the kitchen area.

“You ate?”

“I had toast.” she responded, putting the baby down in the Moses basket that sat at the angle between the armchair she normally occupied and the couch Clint normally sprawled out on.

“Cool.” he responded, looking in the cupboard and finding pop tarts that were miraculously still in their packaging. “…’Tasha?”

“Yeah?”

“What do you know about Bruce?”

“Our Bruce?”

“Yeah.”

Natasha finished tucking in the folds around the baby and sat down, gazing into nowhere in particular as she thought.

“I read his file, when I was assigned to go and bring him in.”

“Did the name Elizabeth Ross crop up anywhere?”

Natasha’s gaze sharpened as she gave him a pointed look.

“…Where did you hear that?”

“Didn’t hear it.” Clint replied, putting the two pastries in the toaster. “Read it.”

Natasha stood up, her arms folded.

“You’d have to be reading some pretty specific papers to come across that name.”

Clint moved to the fridge and pulled a page from under the fridge magnet they picked up in Budapest before handing it to her.

“Last night I was talking to Bruce. He was making notes on this. Looks like the ass-end of a thesis.”

Natasha took a quick look at it.

She had some understanding of advanced biology. This was something to do with Radiation on cells and Bruce’s notes at the margins seemed to do nothing more than amplify what she had said in the body of the text.

“Its a thesis on gentler chemotherapy. Just a theory…nothing in stone.”

“Good.” Clint nodded. “So who is she?”

“She’s a scientist. Cellular biologist.”

“Does Bruce know her?”

“Yes he does.”

Clint found this strange. Why was Nat being so cagey?

“Nat…Look, I appreciate that Bruce’s file is probably level 9 or something but seeing as SHIELD is right up there with _Burger Chef_ and _Firefly_ , can we agree that security levels are now defunct and everything is fair game?”

Natasha gave a soft breath of amusement, the closest thing she got to a laugh and nodded. “…right. Except…well, It’s more…I don’t know if I should be talking so loosely about Bruce’s private life.”

Clint ignored the pop of his pop tarts and sat on the arm of the couch as she sat on the arm of the armchair.

“She was his girlfriend. They were…really close. Her dad, was a General and when Bruce had his ‘accident’. Well he pursued him across the globe to get at ‘The Hulk’, Bruce had to get away…and She was the price.”

Clint felt his heart drop somewhere down to where his stomach usually sat.

“…did she die?”

Natasha shook her head.

“No. Her location is top secret. Level 10. Nobody but Fury and a few other level 10’s know where she is.”

“…Not even Bruce?”

Natasha shook her head.

“No.”

Clint rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“…Elizabeth Ross.” he mumbled.

Natasha looked up at him.

“I think I’ve been a dick.”

Natasha inclined her head.

“Why….”

“Nothing. Nothing I can’t fix, later.” he replied, standing to get his pop tarts. “Got anything planned today?”

“Surfing baby name websites.”

“…I was gonna suggest something, but don’t freak out…okay?”

“Why…?”

“I was gonna suggest a trip.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me for the short chapter


	10. Ghost of missions past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha and Clint take the baby on an important visit--with unexpected outcomes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me for the filler chapter. Things are gonna get interesting...

Clint got out of Tony Stark’s town car as Happy got out of the other side.

The two men looked up and down the street outside the gates and nodded to each other over the hood of the car.

“Coasts clear. I’ll stay here with the car, give you the signal if I see any Paparazzi.” Happy said.

“And what is the signal?” Clint asked, pulling on his cap.

“Four blasts on the horn.” Happy replied.

“…Four? We’re going for subtle.” Clint responded.

“Tony makes me do 12.”

“…Fair point. Four blasts, we’ll meet you on the South Entrance if things turn sour.” Clint took another look up and down the street and nodded to Natasha who was sat in the back with the car seat and their daughter. “Coast’s clear.”

Natasha nodded and got out of the rear passenger side door before walking around to get a hold of her daughter.

Clint looked towards the gates and moved to Natasha’s side, correcting her hair over her sunglasses and looking down at their daughter in the white, woollen bundle. Nestled in the brown leather of her mother’s jacket.

“Come on kid…there’s one more person you need to meet.”

Walking through the wrought Iron Gates, Natasha looked to Clint.

“Feels kinda weird bringing a newborn to a place like this, Clint.” she mumbled, her face moving slightly as she surveyed the area for danger.

“Our line of work? Probably not the last time she’ll be here.”

Walking through the smooth, well maintained grass.

The evenly spaced slabs of granite.

The winding, weeping willows towards a monument a little fresher than it should look.

Clint gave another look around as Natasha folded the blanket around the baby’s head again before looking up at him.

“Ready?” she asked.

Clint responded with a smile and took the baby from her arms, pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and knelt down in front of the simple tombstone.

“…Hey Phil.”

The final resting place of Philip Coulson.

A single, solid tombstone, in a patch of neatly trimmed grass, shaded by a willow.

It seemed a fitting tribute to the man.

Clint and Natasha had been here before on the wet, rainy day when they interred the casket into the ground with a few others, a final vigil for their handler. Their friend. Their colleague.

And although Clint didn’t like to admit to sentimentality, he would drive by after work on occasion, stand by the grave and complain about Sitwell, or Victoria Hand. And yes, Natasha still sent the occasional bouquet to his grave under a pseudonym.

But this was the first time since the burial that they had been there together, and for a bitter-sweet reason.

“Now…I know what you’re gonna say…Phil.” Clint began, a soft smile on his lips as the baby grizzled. “You’re gonna say that workplace relationships don’t work and that its against SHIELD policy…but have you seen how damn cute she is?”

Natasha couldn’t help but beam a smile and look away to sober up.

“I mean…have you seen these fingers? These fingernails? Look at them…” Clint smiled and kissed the baby’s hand. “I…I kinda wish you were here to tell me off, actually, Phil.” he continued, massaging the baby’s fingers gently, rubbing warmth into her tiny knuckles as a chill on the wind threatened rain.“I wish you were hear to chew me out about…dirty boots, incomplete paperwork, skipping language class, chewing gum during training. I wish you were here.”

Natasha looked down at him.

His silence was enough to let her know that he needed a moment. She put her hand on his shoulder, moving her fingertips to the nape of his neck.

The wet sniff that Clint gave was followed by a swallow and a cough.

“…We haven’t named her yet. I suggested Nicky, after Director Fury. Nat shot me down.”

Natasha smiled and stroked the hair on the back of his neck soothingly.

“But we’ve got a while. She was a shock to us, to be honest Phil.” continued Clint. “…big shock. No idea she was even pregnant—Right Nat?”

“No.” Natasha replied, stroking the fine hair on the back of Clint’s neck.

“We thought she had pe—actually, that’s not important. All you need to know is that this little one popped out around 6am. She’s…gorgeous. She screams…a lot sometimes. And she does these…really bad…poops. Once it was green.”

He looked down at the baby again, her cheeks flushed and her eyes closed as she yawned gummily.

“…we’ll bring her up here a lot, Phil. I promise, birthdays, Christmas, holidays…anniversaries. And, she will learn all about her cool Uncle Phil…”

There were two sharp blasts on the horn in the distance, followed by a strangled third and both assassins heads shot up in the direction of the car.

“…are you fucking kidding me? Already?” Clint cursed as he pushed up on his knee and stood.

“Looks like we’re gonna have to cut this short.” Natasha murmured, sliding down her sunglasses and looking for any potential intruders. “…Wait…”

Clint turned, to protect his daughter from any camera flashes, back towards Phil’s tombstone.

A woman with long dark brown hair, dark eyes, and a leather jacket was walking towards them.

“…Romanoff.”

Natasha sighed in partial relief, her arm on Clint’s to keep him facing away for now.

“…Melinda May…”

Melinda’s eyebrow raised.

“Didn’t have you down as the sentimental type, Romanoff.”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.” Natasha replied. “…What are you doing here?”

“…Pay my respects. You?”

“…Same.” Natasha replied. “…So if you’ll excu—”

There was a soft whimper from the baby in Clint’s arms.

Natasha closed her eyes and sighed, her hand dropping from Clint’s elbow.

Melinda’s scrutinizing gaze tightened.

“…What was that?”

Natasha looked to Clint who shrugged and looked back to Melinda.

“Are you alone?”

Melinda looked uncertain, but nodded slowly.

Clint turned around slowly, the baby nestled in his arms.

“…Holy shit.” Melinda muttered, her gaze on the baby, moving up to Clint, then Natasha.

“We’re keeping her a secret, for now.” Natasha mumbled.

“She’s yours..?” Melinda breathed, looking to Clint.

Clint nodded.

“We had no idea—”

Melinda raised her finger to silence him and looked to the gravestone, back to the baby and then swallowed before looking back up at Clint and Natasha.

“…who knows?”

“Tony, Pepper, Happy…Bruce, Steve, Thor…Phil.” Clint nodded to the gravestone. “…and now you.”

Melinda looked back to the gravestone and then back to Natasha.

“…we need to talk.”

“I know.” Natasha sighed. “…Believe me, we’re still getting used to the idea of this.”

“…You at Stark’s still?”

Natasha nodded.

“…I’ll be over later. Maria is going to want to talk to you.”

Natasha sighed and nodded.

Melinda took another look at the baby, Clint, then handed a length of metal coil to Natasha.

“Apologize to Tony for me.” She said, before leaving.

Natasha looked at the coil and knew that Tony was going to be replacing his car horn as she watched her leave.

Clint sighed and looked to Natasha.

“…she always that intense?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NB: In this universe, (probably the canon verse too) at this point, Natasha and Clint are not aware that Coulson is still alive.


	11. Seeing is not believing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the second time in a week Natasha and Clint have to deal with something they never expected.
> 
>  
> 
> \--Warning---
> 
> AGENTS OF SHIELD SPOILERS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here be Agents of SHIELD spoilers

Pepper beamed down at the baby in her arms. She had been fed as soon as they got in and changed so she was content to be held by the nice light thing with the nice smell.

“I have emailed you a list of good name sites, multi-cultural so you don’t have to feel pressured into choosing a cultural name. I know you can have Misha for a boy and for a girl—Is that interchangeable?” Pepper glowed, bouncing the baby lightly.

“Its interchangeable.” Clint replied.

Natasha looked to him incredulously.

“The guy who plays Cas is called…It doesn’t matter.”

Natasha looked to Pepper and smiled, her hand wrapped around her mug.

“You’re gonna make a good mom one day.” she remarked, enjoying the warmth of the mug.

Pepper smiled and shook her head.

“Yeah. Tell that to Tony. His idea of commitment is letting me sync my I-pod to JARVIS…” she muttered, stroking the baby’s hair. “I got a call from Maria. She said that Melinda May is coming over…have I met her?”

“Probably. She’s one…was one, of the best agents in SHIELD. She and I trained together. She has a good reputation in the field.” Natasha responded. “I’m expecting a full dress down.”

“Why?” Pepper asked, wiping the baby’s lower lip with her bib.

Clint looked down at his hands that were crossed and hung in the void between his knees.

“SHIELD agents aren’t technically meant to have relationships.” he muttered.

“…and?” Pepper asked. “Big organisation like that, are you telling me people don’t hook up? Steve was seeing Peggy, I know for a fact he’s seeing Sharon now. What about Melinda and Ward?”

“ _What_ about Melinda and Ward?” Clint repeated.

“Nothing.” both women repeated.

Clint smirked and looked down at his hands again.

“Besides, now SHIELD has been disbanded. You two don’t have to follow rules.” Pepper smiled. “And who can resist breaking the rules when the outcome is so cute!”

Natasha smiled.

“We’re still Avengers.” Clint replied, rubbing his face.

“But first and foremost, you are two people. Two human beings who have done a lot for this country, AND this government. You deserve to have a family.” Pepper said.

Natasha smiled a little.

“Besides, when you guys are out fighting crime and doing what you do best, me and this little lady can do Stark industries stuff.” Pepper smiled and tickled the baby’s chest.

“You heard that Nat. We got a babysitter. Right there. Jarvis, did you get that on tape?”

Natasha chuckled slightly.

“No problem. You need a babysitter. I will put her in a baby bouncer in my office and I will happily take care of her. She’s probably gonna make a great Tony-repellent.”

Pepper leaned down and kissed the baby’s forehead.

Clint wrapped his arm around Natasha and pulled her gently in for a cuddle.

“We could use some alone time…” he said quietly in Natasha’s ear.

“I don’t think so, Hot Shot. You need to get yourself down to the drug store and get some protection before I let you anywhere near me again.” Natasha smirked.

Pepper chuckled and looked to the baby.

“Fair point.” Clint replied and pulled back a little.

Just then JARVIS began to speak.

“Excuse me Miss. Potts. I have a visitor requesting access.”

Pepper looked up at the screen displaying the security feed of the main doors. It was blanked out.

“Who is it Jarvis?”

“I am afraid the visitor has knocked out my surveillance feed. Shall I activate the intercom?”

“Go ahead.”

“It’s May.” Natasha smiled. “She does this.”

“Still, Better safe than sorry. Go ahead Jarvis.”

Jarvis opened the intercom as the slightly fuzzy sound of NY traffic filled the room.

“It’s May.” came a stern voice.

“Melinda. I can’t see you on the camera.” Pepper responded.

“I know. I’m holding it in my hand.”

Pepper sighed and scratched her forehead with her free hand.

“Alright. Stay down there. I’ll send someone to buzz you in.”

Natasha smiled at Pepper.

“Sorry, she’s old school.”

“I noticed.” Pepper said and looked to the screen.

“Jarvis, is Maria still in?”

“Yes, Miss. Potts.”

“Can you tell her May is here and that she’ll be up in a few?”

“Yes. Miss. Potts.”

Pepper smiled at Natasha.

“I should have bought facepacks…It’s going to be a girls night by the looks of it.” she joked.

Clint cleared his throat a little.

“…Oh, yes, of course, and you Clint.”

“Oh no…Please. I’ll go find Steve and we can talk about…cars…boobs…and stuff, I guess.”

He stood up, leaning down to press a kiss to Natasha’s head before standing.

Just then the elevator doors opened to reveal Maria dressed in a smart business suit, and May, in her usual attire. But both were joined by another person.

Already, Clint knew in his gut—his very well trained gut, that something was not quite right. Natasha behind him felt the same as she got to her feet.

The women walked into the living area, their faces stern…

But the person with them was impossible.

It was like he wasn’t seeing this.

It wasn’t real.

He’d fallen asleep, in the car on the way home. Because this wasn’t real.

But that grasp on his shoulder was painfully real…

Natasha’s fingers were curling painfully, the nails piercing the shirt he wore.

“…Phil…?”

Coulson was stood there, between the two women. Apology creasing the face they had learned to forget, and worry etched into the eyes.

“…I can explain…” came the soft, authority toned voice.

Clint felt his knees grow weak, his heart thudding so loudly the whole tower could hear it, as Natasha gave a shaky breath behind him.

Coulson’s eyes moved from Clint, to the baby nestled in Pepper’s arms.

“…God…” Phil began. “…when did you—?”

But Clint was already moving, he grabbed Coulson by the lapels of his grey suit and shook him.

“Where the fuck have you been?!”

May’s gun was on Clint and Natasha had already sprung to Clint’s side, her own gun in her hand and around seven inches from May’s eyes.

Coulson slowly moved his hand up and put his hand on May’s arm.

“…Leave it…please.” he urged.

Clint’s eyes were watering, his throat hurt from something painful getting lodged in there and in the background he could hear Pepper hushing the baby that was crying.

Slowly, May who was keeping her eye on Clint, lowered her gun before staring at Natasha who slowly lowered hers and put it back in her holster.

Coulson’s hands found Clint’s and urged them to let go as Clint half stepped, half staggered back, his cheeks flushed red and his pulse pounding in his ears.

“…It wasn’t safe to tell you.” Maria began. “It would have compromised everyone’s safety.”

Clint was staring at Phil the same way he had when the older man had bested him in a fight in a New York Alleyway and brought him into SHIELD custody all those years ago.

Rage. Anger. Denial. Hopelessness…and something else.

Guilt.

Coulson nodded to May.

“We’re good.”

May holstered her weapon and stood back.

“…I’ll make some coffee.” Pepper suggested and laid the baby carefully in the car seat.

Coulson’s eyes moved back to the baby.

Natasha drew level with Clint, both of them staring at Coulson. The way he expected them to stare at him.

As if he had just come back from the dead.

Coulson had rehearsed what he planned to say.

Planned to do.

Planned to explain.

But meeting the cold blue-grey eyes and the dubious green ones, the words were meaningless.

“…what do you want me to say?” he asked.

Clint shook his head slightly, his jaw setting as he swallowed a ball of anger.

“…nothing. I don’t want you to say shit to me.” He brushed past Coulson and got into the elevator, pressing the button to close the doors.

Natasha closed her eyes and sighed as Coulson turned to face him.

“Barton.” he began.

“Leave him.” Natasha replied coldly. All emotion surgically removed from her voice. “He needs time.”

Coulson looked to her.

“…I was, expecting something warmer.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve been dead a while, Sir. Might take you a while to feel ‘warm’ again.”

*

Clint had always blamed himself for Phil’s death.

If he hadn’t had been so clumsy with his attempt to take Loki down, he wouldn’t have been brainwashed.

If he hadn’t distracted security at Stuttgart, Loki wouldn’t have got the Avengers attention and gone aboard like a trojan horse.

If he hadn’t had breached Helicarrier security, Loki wouldn’t have got out.

And if Loki hadn’t had got out…

But, now Coulson was alive.

Really alive.

Phil was alive.

It was a relief, but it hurt.

Sure, there were all the usual questions of How. Why. Why didn’t we know. What about SHIELD falling. Did Fury know?

And more.

Did Phil not try and contact them? Let them know he was safe? Did he even care? Who else knew?

Did Tony know? Did Steve know?

Why hadn’t they said?

The cold breeze of a autumnal sunset atop the top elevator-accessible level of the tower was a welcome caress on his hot, damp cheeks.

Yes. He’d been fucking crying.

So?

He deserved a few fucking tears.

His boss, his handler, the guy he’d as good as fucking killed was alive…

But why did he feel like screaming?

Why wasn’t he relieved, why was he more angry than relieved?

Clint sniffed hard.

Not four hours ago he’d been stood next to the tombstone of Philip Coulson and now he was sat downstairs with Natasha.

Rubbing his cheek, the needling of responsibility was getting to him.

Jabbing his ribs.

Thinking of Natasha who must be reeling from this too.

Thinking of his daughter. Meeting Coulson…

Hill. May.

He felt ashamed for the way he behaved.

Really ashamed.

_Some homecoming, huh, Boss?_

Sniffing hard, he heard the elevator doors behind him open.

_Fucking Stark…_

“Look, Stark, if you’ve come to try out some more dumb-ass bird puns you can go fuc—”

“Language.” came the voice. “…how many times do I have to tell you about your language?”

Clint turned, his eyes burning and his throat sore to face Coulson who was walking towards him.

“…You know I have a potty mouth, Phil. And forgive me, but mama taught me not to talk to dead men.”

Coulson’s eyebrow raised.

“…Wow. I see you’re breaking out the ‘special sass’ for me. I should die more often.”

Clint leaned forwards on the metal bar, staring into the city, a pink glow blinding the grey eyes.

“…how?”

“If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”

Clint gave a mirthless laugh.

“…I had a God play _The Sims_ with me for the best part of a week, try me.”

“Blue alien Goo and a hell of a lot of electricity.”

Clint rubbed his nose.

“…You’re right. I don’t believe you.”

Coulson joined Clint, leaning forwards and looking out into the city, into the dying light.

“She’s beautiful.”

“…thanks.”

“I wanted to tell you.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“I’d ask Sitwell, for updates on you. When Natasha took down Pierce. I got worried.”

“…and where were you when SHIELD fell?”

“…In the air. My plane got turned around. Took me to the Hub. One of my team were Hydra. I had no idea it was going on.”

“I always thought Ward was an Asshole.”

Coulson smiled and looked to Clint who was half-smiling.

“…I wanted to keep you safe. Both of you.”

Clint looked back at his former handler.

“…and who else knew?”

“Hill, May, and a few other top levels.”

“…Hill knew.”

“She had to keep it secret. They all did. Now things have changed, secrets don’t count for as much as they used to.”

Clint nodded.

“…So…reckon we can shake hands and put it behind us?” Coulson asked. “…or am I gonna have to talk you down with.—what was it—Double cheeseburger, extra mayo, extra mustard, no pickles and a strawberry milkshake?”

Clint’s face contorted into a bemused smile.

The stipulations he’d handed Coulson for his signature on the SHIELD contract.

Wow, he’d been a real jerk when he was a kid…

“…Handshake.” Clint responded.

Clint straightened up and shook his former handler’s hand.

Phil patted his arm and nodded.

“I’m sorry.”

Clint shrugged.

“…I understand.”

“Good. So…how long were you and—?”

“Phil.” Clint frowned incredulously. “Seriously?”

He put his arm on his shoulder and guided him effortlessly towards the elevator.

“I’m curious. I want to know if Agents liaising sexually under my supervision is a regular thing or—”

“Is this about May and Ward?”

Coulson didn’t reply, but gave a impassive smile.

“That’s classified.”

“That’s a yes.” Clint grinned.

“Not that it matters now. Although, I have to admit—as kids go, she’s a real heart-breaker.”

“She will be. Say, Phil…d’you know any good women’s names?”

“Uh…Audrey’s a nice name…”


	12. Whos lies are they anyway?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha has a hard time dealing with yet more secrets being outed, and Bruce teaches Clint something he picked up in Kalyani

Clint put the baby to bed that night.

Coulson stayed a few more hours, talked about what SHIELD did to get him back. As usual, he said it all in a monotonous, unemotional way. The way Phil always dealt with things that would curl the edges of the normal person’s soul and even when Pepper excused herself for some fresh air, and when Tony walked in and asked more probing and intrusive questions, he acted as though he were retelling the story of his weekly grocery shop.

But he held the baby, smiled at her as if she were a vintage _Captain America ‘Play-Shield’ _(circa 1946) in its original packaging.__

__He promised to drop by with a present and a card in a few days, and that he was needed somewhere up north and left, flanked by May and Hill who seemed to be almost guarding him._ _

__As Natasha dressed her after her bath, as Clint read out names and she shot them down, he asked that tonight, if it was okay, he put her to bed._ _

__Natasha seemed fine with it and kissing her flushed cheeks, headed towards the bedroom._ _

__Now Clint was rocking his daughter to sleep in the nursery, wrapping one of his own goodies around her to let her know that her father was holding her._ _

__He held her closer than usual that night._ _

__Getting his handler, officer, and friend back, the only man that had resembled anything close to a father figure to him back, made him value his daughter even more than he already did._ _

__Humming softly to her, her cheeks pushed together into a pout, her eyelashes fluttering sleepily as her eyelids grew heavy. Gravity pulled him into the centre of his universe. The new centre…_ _

__Her._ _

__This helpless infant. Not even a week old. Who couldn’t hold her own head up, burp by herself or even focus on him held his heart in her tiny, perfect starfish of a hand and controlled him._ _

__And he knew what control was like._ _

__But this…this was 100% consensual control._ _

__She didn’t yet have a name, but she was his boss._ _

__And she was everything to him._ _

__Soon, her breathing became the soft snuffle of a snore that only a small, button nose like hers could make and she was ready to sleep._ _

__He laid her down in her crib and set JARVIS on guard duty before joining Natasha in the bedroom._ _

__She was sat up, glasses on, book in hand….completely not reading._ _

__“…you know…for someone who lives their life pretending, you can suck at it sometimes.” he remarked, leaving the bedroom door open for their mutual comfort and clicking the baby monitor on._ _

__Anybody else would say what he had just said and lose the sensation in their nose and their voice for a half hour, but for him, a half smile._ _

__“…I must work on my tells more.”_ _

__Clint sat down, kicking off his half-done up boots._ _

__“What is it…what’s on your mind?”_ _

__Natasha put her book down and drew her knees up too her chest, resting her chin on them._ _

__Clint looked at her._ _

__She never looked more beautiful than when she was showing her fractures._ _

__Sliding a finger through her hair and tucking a red, wayward curl behind her ear he drew level with her eyes._ _

__“…was it Phil?”_ _

__Many would liken Natasha to a wounded tiger, beautiful, but dangerous when wounded. Clint didn’t hold with clichés like that._ _

__Natasha was every inch as damaged as he was, but she made it look elegant. Her life was every bit as tangled, knotted and fucked up as his had been. But she made it look like a plot to best selling novel._ _

__His life had been a slow, limping, crawl._ _

__Hers, had been a ballet._ _

__Natasha’s green eyes met him, and again, she had his heart._ _

__These Romanoff women…_ _

__They had that way to them…_ _

__“…yes.” she responded._ _

__Clint rested his hand on her foot and stroked the seemingly forever cold skin on her feet._ _

__“…What about it?”_ _

__“…I thought once I’d leaked SHIELD’s dirty little secrets onto the net, nothing would be in the shadows any more. But…suddenly all these new secrets are coming out. I’m still wondering whose lies I’m telling.”_ _

__Clint rested his chin against her knees, their faces inches apart._ _

__Natasha had been a cog in so many machines. Always lying for one organisation or party or another. It was a valid concern._ _

__“…well, if it counts for anything. At least we’re hearing them first hand now…”_ _

__Natasha half-smiled._ _

__“…Can I believe what Coulson said about the TAHITI project? Can I be sure that Ward was the only Hydra agent on his team? When will we see him again?”_ _

__Clint stroked her cheek with his thumb._ _

__“Who knows? But until then, we’re a little busy with our new mission.”_ _

__“Mission: ‘Name Baby Romanoff-Barton?” she mumbled._ _

__“Barton-Romanoff.” Clint responded instantly._ _

__“We’ll see.” she smirked._ _

__*_ _

__“Agent Romanoff. Agent Barton…”_ _

__“Agent Romanoff. Agent Barton.”_ _

__Natasha sat up first and rubbed her eyes, the familiar feeling of soreness that was slowly growing less intense as the days went on returning._ _

__“…Hmmm?”_ _

__“Agent Romanoff, I am detecting a problem with Baby Romanoff-Barton.”_ _

__“…Problem?”_ _

__The high pitching crying hadn’t woke her._ _

__She must have been exhausted._ _

__She sprang up, rocking the bed and waking Clint up._ _

__Clint groggily lifted his head._ _

__Natasha was already in the nursery by the time Clint had got up and pushed his hearing aids into his ears._ _

__The baby was screaming._ _

__Screaming high and her little face was bright red._ _

__“…What is it sweetheart?” she said softly, trying to stay calm._ _

__Clint wandered over as Natasha laid the baby on the changing table, feeling the baby’s cheeks with the back of her hand._ _

__She was warm, and very distressed._ _

__“Shh…Shh…let’s check your diaper.”_ _

__She quickly unpopped all of buttons on the romper suit, the buttons on the vest and pulled the vest up to check on her diaper._ _

__An angry, red rash was spread over the baby’s stomach, thighs and probably under the diaper._ _

__“Clint!” Natasha practically shrieked._ _

__“Fuck!” Clint swore. “…Shit…Shit. Uh…one sec…one sec…let me check the book.”_ _

__Natasha unpopped the diaper and saw that it extended all over her baby’s backside and legs._ _

__Bright red._ _

__No wonder the poor thing was crying._ _

__Natasha hardly ever panicked._ _

__Panic did nothing._ _

__But her baby screaming was worse than any torture she had endured._ _

__“…I’ll go wake Bruce.”_ _

__“Bruce is a physicist.”_ _

__“He’s a Doctor. I don’t care what in…”_ _

__Clint ran to the elevator, still in his sleeping boxers and hit the buttons._ _

__The lift cycled to him and he got in, jamming the floor that Bruce was on. He was pretty sure it was somewhere near the bottom._ _

__“Requesting Access.” Jarvis responded, his voice reverberating in the tiny metal space._ _

__“No time, Jarv’, it’s an emergency.”_ _

__“Requesting Access.”_ _

__Clint swallowed the stale taste of sleep and wiping his mouth, his stubble grazing his arm._ _

__“Access granted.”_ _

__The elevator moved downwards as Clint checked the time on the lift’s panel._ _

__3:45AM._ _

__The metal box stopped with a jolt and opened and Bruce was stood there by the doors. Fully clothed, his face slightly careworn, concern on his face._ _

__“…Barton?”_ _

__“The baby has a rash, she’s screaming…can you come and check her?”_ _

__Bruce took a moment to consider it, then nodded, grabbing his glasses from the coffee table near his own couch and headed to the elevator with him._ _

__Clint was trying not to think of anything but the pressing matter of his baby daughter in pain upstairs while his lover panicked, but otherwise couldn’t help but notice that Bruce was looking as though he hadn’t slept properly, or even washed._ _

__“You helped people in Calcutta…right?” Clint said, breaking the silence with a sledgehammer._ _

__Bruce nodded._ _

__“I’m not by any means a paediatrician but—”_ _

__“That’s fine. I just…she’s hurting and I wanted someone to give their opinion.”_ _

__The doors opened and the child’s screams permeated the enclosed space._ _

__Bruce walked out ahead of him, sliding on the glasses and headed towards the nursery where Natasha was shushing the baby in soft, sympathetic Russian._ _

__Clint followed as Bruce took her straight from Natasha and lay her on the changing table._ _

__His Doctors instincts he had honed in India breaking through his usually reserved demeanour._ _

__“…Alright…Alright…” he soothed as he felt the baby’s forehead with the back of index finger and middle finger and nodded, checking her breathing._ _

__Natasha drew back, watching the man as Clint found himself holding her hand, to comfort himself more than her._ _

__“…Alright, she’s a little warm, and this rash is hot. Uh…” Bruce began, running his fingers through his tousled hair. “…I think it’s an allergy…”_ _

__“Is it nappy rash?” Natasha asked, a worried rattle on her voice. “I changed her a few hours ago. Her diaper wasn’t dirty. I keep her clean.”_ _

__“No…No, this looks like an allergy. I’m…75% sure its an allergy. She’ll need to visit a Doctor to be sure.”_ _

__Clint looked to Natasha who was biting the inside of her lip, her lips tight._ _

__“ER?” Clint suggested._ _

__Natasha nodded and headed to grab the baby’s travelling bag._ _

__“I’d leave her diaper off for now. If it is an allergy, whatever’s on the diaper started this rash. Do you have towelling diapers?” Bruce asked_ _

__“No.” Natasha responded. “I thought the disposable were better?”_ _

__“…It’s alright. Get me a muslin square, I can make a diaper for her. A midwife in Kalyani taught me how.”_ _

__Clint, at any other time would have shared a look with Natasha which would have conveyed his surprise, but now he was more concerned over quietening his baby daughter._ _

__“Will you come with us, Bruce?” he heard Natasha ask as he moved to grab his hoody from the rocker._ _

__“…You don—”_ _

__“No. We do. Look, I know nothing about this. Nothing about babies. You know allergies, and towelling diapers.” she continued, handing him a muslin square._ _

__Bruce sighed, took the square and gently began to tie the screaming child into a diaper._ _

__“I’ll be there for support. I am not stepping on any doctors toes. It’s not my place.”_ _

__Natasha squeezed his forearm as he pinned the diaper in place with what Clint believed to be a decorative pink pin from the teddy-bear that shared the changing table._ _

__“Thank you Bruce.”_ _


	13. Second Chances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha and Clint take their newborn to hospital following a medical emergency. But what else does fate have in store?

Bruce had driven them at the high end of the speed limit (which meant 10 above) to the hospital, parked up neatly, and nodded for them to run in and he’d find them.

Natasha had the baby wrapped in a loose bundle, she had stopped crying but she was making a low level whining noise that had everything to do with the rash on her lower half.

All the way there, Clint had watched his lover, the mother of his child kiss the baby’s head and try and soothe her to no avail.

He couldn’t be sure who was more distressed.

The baby or the mother.

He had sat with his arm around Natasha, her shoulders held tight as she cradled her newborn and her mouth held tight between soft, comforting words.

He was as helpless as she had been.

He had held her together when her bones were sticking out of her flesh.

When blood was pouring out of her body.

When she lay shaking with shock.

When she was succumbing to hypothermia in a forest with no hope of extraction.

But he had never seen her this troubled.

Seeing the red lights of the neon hospital sign were like a breath of fresh air in a stale room and he couldn’t wait to get them inside.

Natasha walked straight up to the desk to the receptionist who was just sitting back down with a cup of coffee and said in her usual, quiet, but slightly hurried tones:

“My baby is sick, she has a rash. Can you help?”

In all of his years as Natasha’s partner, he had never heard her sound so helpless.

The receptionist nodded, the stark white of the screen reflecting on her glasses.

“Alright, what color is the rash?”

“Red.”

“She been vomiting?” she asked.

“No.”

“Diarreah?” The receptionist asked.

“No.”

“Fever?”

“No.”

The receptionist nodded.

“Name?”

“Barton-Romanoff…” Natasha said quickly.

“…First name?”

“She’s only a few days old, we haven’t…we couldn’t find the right name.”

The receptionist nodded again.

“And how long has she been like this?”

“Literally, the last hour. She woke us up cr—”

“Alright.” Interrupted the receptionist, a soothing tone to her voice. “No worries. I’ll get someone to come and see you, it shouldn’t be too long, we’re not busy tonight.”

Natasha carried the whimpering baby back towards the sitting area three feet from where her waters broke not even a week before and rested her cheek against her daughter’s head.

Clint sat heavily on the metal chair besides her and wrapped his arm around her.

He was perfectly aware that anyone who knew who they were only had to take a furtive snapchat and their secret would be all over the news, gutter press and every social networking site from twitter to tumblr in 12 hours.

But he didn’t care.

Nothing mattered now.

Just her.

Her and his lover.

The mother of his baby.

Natasha was hissing gentle shushes against her forehead, her lips brushing the baby’s skin.

Clint had never loved her more dearly or entirely than he did right now.

“…she’s quieter.” Clint began.

“She’s tired.” Natasha responded. “I’d be tired too if I’d screamed for an hour straight.”

Clint ran his fingers through the tangled curls that hung at the base of Natasha’s neck.

“…you’re doing good.”

Natasha’s stance changed, it tightened.

She didn’t believe him.

He didn’t care.

He needed to tell her.

“Baby Barton-Romanoff?” came a voice.

Both parents looked up to see a doctor walking towards them.

She wore dark blue scrubs, had a stethoscope that hung out of her shirt pocket and had a kind smile.

“I’m Doctor Lee. “ she introduced herself, extending her hand to Clint first.

Clint shook her hand and nodded.

“I understand the little lady is feeling sick?” she smiled, looking sympathetically to the grizzling newborn in Natasha’s arms.

“She has a rash.” Natasha said plainly. “Around her bottom.”

Dr. Lee nodded.

“Let’s get a look at her. If you’d like to follow me?”

Clint put his hand on her back as the Doctor walked ahead to the curtained off area.

“What about Bruce?” Natasha asked, looking to Clint as she walked.

“I’ll come out and find him in a while.” Clint promised as he guided her after the brunette doctor.

Natasha followed the Doctor to a free cubicle where the Doctor invited her to lay the baby on the bed.

Natasha carefully did so, supporting her head and checking the soft spot for swelling again, for the twentieth time.

The Doctor leaned over.

“Can I unpop her dia—oh? Cloth?”

“Its temporary. Our friend, he suggested we try something without any creams or emollients.”

“Smart idea. Especially if the rash is aggravated by lotion or talc.” The doctor agreed, unhooking the pin and undoing the nappy, and smiling and cooing at the child as she did.

Clint put his arm around Natasha’s waist and watched as the Doctor inspected the rash, it didn’t look half as bad and Clint wondered if it was actually an allergy like Bruce said.

“…It’s gone down.” Natasha mumbled, a hint of relief, but trepidation in her voice. “It was really bad when she started screaming.”

“It looks like an allergic reaction. It’s possible she’s allergic to a lotion or talc, and please—don’t feel bad, the most experienced parents can find their babies are allergic to lotion that is tried and tested on their previous children. I think what we’re best to do is just run a few routine tests, take a history, perhaps schedule a routine appointment with your practitioner?” Doctor Lee suggested, examining the now not-so-angry rash.

Natasha swallowed.

“Is she in danger?”

Dr. Lee smiled at her, she had a kind smile—Clint thought.

“We’ll determine that she’s not, and then we’ll explore our options. But you did the right thing in bringing her in. You can’t be too careful with newborns. Be right back with some equipment.”

She then moved out of the curtained cubicle.

Clint sighed and rested his head against Natasha’s shoulder.

“…she’s gonna be okay.”

“Let’s…just wait for the results.”

Clint looked to her.

“You aren’t gonna lose her.”

Natasha’s hand was on her baby’s stomach, making sure that she stayed where she was, but her face turned to him.

Clint wasn’t sure, even now, if he had earned a kiss or a slap.

“You’re afraid of losing her. You’re afraid of losing everything…again.”

Clint was definitely pushing his luck now.

Natasha’s eyes were a cliché. A pair of bright green needles that didn’t quite pierce…but stabbed.

He knew he was right.

Didn’t mean it sat well with him though.

Setting his head on her shoulder again, not enough to buckle her, but enough to let her know he was still there, he reached for the baby’s fist as she lay there, no longer grizzling but with a cranky expression that he was certain was at least 25% Natasha.

After a few moments, Natasha let him put his arm around her waist.

Dr. Lee returned a few moments later and took the baby’s temperature, blood pressure, and a few more tests.

The more tests she completed, the more satisfied she seemed to be.

“I’m 99.9% sure this is an allergic reaction.” she agreed as she wound up the baby blood pressure cuff.

He felt the relief unwind in his lover’s body and her relax into his arm.

“So she’s gonna be okay?” Clint replied.

“I’d suggest, stick with the cloth diapers for a few days, move onto hypo-allergenic diapers, and steer clear of any lotions until we can pin down what the problem is.” smiled Dr. Lee.

“Awesome.” Clint grinned and stood up straight to peer over at his daughter. “You little…You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Dr. Lee signed off a few papers.

“Take these to your practitioner. If they need any information, they can contact us.”

Natasha took the papers in relief as Clint took them from her and opened them in his usual inquisitive manner.

“Well, thank you Doctor…Elizabeth Lee.” he grinned.

“Call me Betty.” She responded with a smile.

“…Betty?”

The curtain opened from the outside and Bruce stood there, his lips parted, and the blood rapidly draining from his face.

“…Bruce!” Dr. Lee exclaimed.

It all suddenly connected in Natasha’s brain.

Loose ends tied up.

Karen Lee….

Karen Ross, Mother of Betty Ross.

Betty Ross, former lover of Doctor Bruce Banner aka Hulk, current whereabouts unknown, believed to be living under a pseudonym…

She’d taken her mothers maiden name to stay safe…and here she was…

Natasha’s eyes moved quickly to Bruce who looked like he was about to throw up and collapse in the same breath.

She felt like she was interrupting a delicate moment.

She felt Clint stand up straight behind her and heard him scratch the short hair at the back of his neck in discomfort.

Bruce nodded awkwardly to her before looking to Natasha.

“…ready to go?”

Natasha’s eyes tightened and a surge of adrenaline that had been ill-spent on panic surged forwards.

“Uh…yeah.” Natasha began, picking up the baby gently, supporting her head. “…but you’re not.”

“…s-sorry?” Bruce stammered.

Clint had to force himself not to grin as his head got to where Natasha already was.

Natasha closed in on Bruce, muttering.

“If you come out of here without her number, I’m telling Tony.”

Bruce went to protest and looked to Betty who was looking straight at him.

Clint patted his shoulder before adding:

“…No wedding ring. Get in there.” he grinned for the first time since he had discovered his baby girl was sick and followed after his woman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this AU, Betty took high level SHIELD protection when Bruce aligned himself with the Avengers


	14. Make an Entrance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The family, and team prepare for a big event...

Natasha smiled at Clint as he fought with the tie at the neck of his stiff black collar.

“I hate ties. Didn’t I say I hated ties? Ties…and bow ties. Ties are bad enough, but bow ties are like…their evil, bondage obsessed, trust-fund cousin in commerce…”

Natasha smiled and walked over, fixed his tie in a few tweaks and stroked it flat against his ironed, black shirt.

Clint looked down and looked at himself in the mirror.

“…Hmm.” he nodded. “Looks okay.”

He leaned down, in his smart suit pants and grinned at the cutie in the smart lilac lace-and- crinoline dress that sat in the baby chair.

“And how are you? How are you? You look great!” he beamed, taking her hand in his fingers. “You look better than both of us, you know what? I kinda hope there are paparazzi outside because you’re gonna be the best lookin’ thing they ever saw…what do you think about that?”

“I think that if there are any paparazzi out there, they’re going to need good health insurance.” Natasha smiled as she slid the pearl earring into her ear and smiled.

“Come on…” he began, moving to her and wrapping his arms around her waist. “Don’t get blood on the pretty dress.”

She smiled as he buried his nose in her shoulder.

“You sure you wanna do this?” he muttered against her skin. “…could just call it off…do it another day…”

“No. I’m ready.” she smiled.

Clint kissed her shoulder again and smiled before moving to get his jacket.

“What time are we booked in for?”

“2.45.” she replied, spraying herself with a delicate, expensive perfume.

“Nice. Shouldn’t take too long.”

Clint pulled his jacket on, did up two of the three buttons and scooped up the baby in the small baby chair.

“…right. You gotta promise me something. No puking on the dress, no pooping in the dress, or at least until after photos okay?”

The new born stared up at him, very interested in the flash of colour, the strip of purple that divided the black of his chest.

He grinned and turned to look at Natasha.

“…Natasha, you look amazing.” he said.

Hell, he had said it time and time again. As eloquently as someone who didn’t quite graduate high school could. But he doubted if Shakespeare, Poe and any of those other fancy writers got together for the next hundred years they couldn’t do her justice with words.

“Thanks, you look pretty good yourself.” she teased with a slight wrinkle of her nose.

Her hair smelt like sunlight and warmth, her neck of that expensive perfume, the curves of her body that held practically no suggestion of the baby in the seat he carried.

He could have had her there and then…

“Come on, we can’t keep everyone waiting.” he smiled, distracting his mind and loins from her body.

“Don’t see why it has to be this grand thing. Can’t we just go in there, do it and get out?” Natasha sighed, grabbing her shawl and clutch-bag before following Clint towards the elevator, picking up the baby bag as she went and hooked it on his other shoulder.

“Because they want to be involved. And seeing how great everyone has been, I don’t think its such a tragedy.” Clint replied as he shrugged on the weight of the bag. It was a little heavier than his quiver.

“Still. I’d have preferred quiet.”

“Quiet suits you. But sometimes, y’have to make an entrance. Right?” he winked at the baby before stepping into the elevator.

“They’re waiting in the garage.” Natasha informed him, looking to the cell that had just buzzed.

Clint nodded and looked ahead at the polished metal doors.

He pondered who Stark got to polish them, and was just about to stroke the shine of them when he realized a baby occupied his other hand.

Maybe it was time to grow up…

“…You sure about this?” Natasha asked.

Clint looked to her.

“Huh?”

“…This?”

Clint smiled.

“More than anything.”

She smiled and pressed a kiss to his shoulder as the elevator dinged open.

Stark was stood there in a snappy suit, Pepper in something slightly less ostentatious. Bruce and Thor as well as Steve who stood in his old military formal uniform—perhaps the only man who could make 1940’s military wear look like it was in the window at _Macy’s._

“Excited?” Pepper gushed.

“You bet.” Clint grinned.

Pepper smiled and took a quick picture on her cell of the family before Stark nodded to the car.

“Happy’s gonna drive you. Bullet proof car. Top of the range. Side impact protection—safest place.” Stark reeled off.

Natasha nodded as Clint patted Tony’s back and headed to the car to strap the baby in.

Pepper, naturally followed to take more pictures.

She took the opportunity to glance over at Bruce who was listening to Thor talk about rites of passage on Asgard to Steve who was listening politely and interjecting during the pauses with sincere noises.

He looked smarter.

He looked together.

Natasha was about to ask him how the other night went, when he had left him and Betty to talk in the ER.

On the drive home, he had been oddly calm, and very cagey.

She needed to know how it went.

“Nat, d’you have that bib?”

Natasha moved her attention to Clint who was holding a pacifier in one hand and a wet bib in another.

Natasha checked her hands and found it in her hand.

She walked over and handed it to him as he leaned into the car, slotting it under the baby’s chin.

“She looked…pukey.” Clint muttered, his head tilted uncertainly. “She’s gonna puke on the pretty dress.”

Natasha smiled.

“Can’t have that. She’ll upstage Stark.”

Clint grinned as Tony orchestrated who got what seat in the limousine. Thor chuckled on how slim the streamlined ship was and how it had decadent interiors much like his former chambers on Asgard.

“Come on.” Happy began, getting out to usher the pair into the car. “We have an appointment and traffic is due to get bad.”

Clint opened the door for Natasha, grinning at her with his usual cheeky charm.

“After you…M’lady.”

“Please don’t. You’ll be wearing God awful Fedora’s next…”

“Sorry.” Clint replied breezily. “Just trying to be chivalrous.” he said, sliding in next to her as Happy closed the door for him.

“I didn’t get with you for your chivalry.” Natasha teased back, checking the baby was comfortable.

“Nope. Definitely not my chivalry. Admit it, you were impressed by the amount of Gumbo I ate on our first mission.”

Natasha smiled and rested her head back.

Clint put his arm around the babyseat.

“Phil’s meeting us there…” Natasha remarked, smiling.

“What did you say when you asked him?”

“Well, he was taken aback.” Natasha smiled, looking into the distance as the garage doors opened and Tony roared off, driving his own limo while his chauffeur ferried his friends and their baby.

“Tony was kinda offended you didn’t ask him.”

“Well, there’s only one male position available.” she smiled, stroking a red thread of hair into a curl on the baby’s forehead. “And two female.”

“That’s sexist.”

“That’s the rules.”

Clint smiled back and lowered his voice.

«”When do I get to get between your legs again, Tasha?”» he asked in faltering Russian.

«”Soon.”» she teased. «”Now behave yourself.”»

Clint’s tongue traced his bottom lip as he grinned again and gazed out of the tinted windows at the scenery.

Natasha was very grateful his attention had shifted as her cheeks were warm with a blush.

*

Natasha smiled as Pepper held their baby in her arms, shushing her in the quiet room as her parents did something very important indeed.

Clint signed the paperwork first, and handing the ink pen to Natasha, she signed it in her italicized flourish.

The Registrar smiled, blotted the work and handed them a copy.

“There. All done. And Congratulations again.” he smiled as Clint took the copy and slid it into his inner breast pocket.

“Thank you.”

He took Natasha’s hand and kissed it as she looked to Pepper who was stood next to Coulson and Maria.

Clint reached for his daughter and put her over his shoulder, kissing the back of her head softly.

“There you go kid, you’re officially valid now.” he whispered.

Natasha smiled and kissed Clint’s cheek before opening the door to where Tony, Thor, Steve and Bruce were waiting.

“Is it done?” Thor asked.

“All done.” Natasha smiled.

“Many congratulations to you!” he beamed, shaking Clint’s free hand and then kissing Natasha’s.

“Can we see?” Steve smiled.

Clint handed the baby to Pepper again who gladly took up her duty and slipped his hand into his breast pocket, unfolding the official document and presenting it to the assembled company.

“I can officially introduce you to Klara Alianovna Barton-Romanoff.”

A team of assassins, aliens, rage monsters, professional liars, Geniuses, CEO’s and dead men…their hearts melting.

What a sight.

Steve smiled and looked to Clint.

“See, all you have to do is marry her now, Clint and you’re all set—I’m joking!”

Clint chuckled as Pepper looked hopeful at being a bridesmaid as well as a God Mother.

“Maybe in his dreams.” muttered Natasha, wiping the baby’s lip.

“I still don’t why I couldn’t be Godfather.” Tony grumbled.

“Technically, I came back from the dead for this gig.” Coulson deadpanned.

“We all know that you’d do all the duties of a God parent if it came to it.” Clint replied.

Tony nodded and smiled.

“Right—party back at my place? Or I could buy out a restaurant for the afternoon…”

“Back at the tower sounds great.” Natasha responded. “Don’t want to push our luck with her staying so well behaved.”

“I can’t make it…I’m so sorry.” Bruce piped up apologetically.

“Okay buddy.” Tony nodded, taking it well. “Just give me a call when you need a lift back home, right?”

Bruce nodded and smiled briefly.

“Okay everyone, back to the cars.” Tony nodded as Pepper handed Klara back to Clint.

Natasha made her way to Bruce who was preparing to leave and with a little hesitancy put her hand on his forearm.

He looked at her.

“…and where do you think you’re going?” she smiled, saying it in the least suspicious way possible.

Bruce gave a strange smile as the tops of his cheeks took on a blush.

“I’m meeting someone.” he said non-commitally.

Natasha smirked as she put two and two together.

“Betty.”

“It’s not really a date. We’re just meeting up to talk, and to go over old things…”

Natasha was practically beaming.

“I’m happy for you Bruce.”

Bruce smiled properly. The first time in a while.

“Its not really a date.”

“Alright.” she nodded. “Well, good luck…See you later?”

“Of course.”

Natasha let Bruce go and got into the car as Happy held open the door.

“Where’s he off to?” Happy asked, nodding to Bruce.

“None of our business.” she replied and got in.

Clint was tucking a small blanket over Klara and mumbling as he did.

“…got to keep you warm, don’t want a cold, you’re gonna hate getting sick, but the bits in between are pretty cool.”

“She’s gonna be fine.” Natasha promised, buckling up.

“Yeah.” Clint nodded, looking at her. “She’s got you as a mom.”

“And you as a dad.”

“Kid’s gonna be fluent in swearing by the time she’s four.” Natasha chuckled.

“And know how to disarm someone by the times she’s seven.” Clint retorted. “…she’s a lucky kid.”

Natasha took his hand and squeezed it.

“Our second chance.”

Clint’s lips grew into a smile and he squeezed back.

“To do what was never done for us…”

She nodded.

Clint leaned over and pressed a warm, loving kiss to his lovers lips. Natasha kissed back, sliding her hand into the back of his head, to his hair.

He pulled back a little, his lips a few centimeters from hers, his eyes closed.

“I love you Nat…” he whispered.

She kissed his lips a few more times to gain a grin from him, the grin that she loved more than anything else and smiled.

“I love you too, Barton.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter i'm afraid!
> 
> But stay tuned, book mark me or follow me because a new fic is in the works!

**Author's Note:**

> AU: Obvs.


End file.
